AU6: Tapestry
by Lilac Reverie
Summary: Alternating Universes Series, Part Six: In which all my various strands of story are woven back into the whole. Ten/Rose/TenB/RoseB and many many others.
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note:** This is the sixth story in my series Alternating Universes. As always, new readers are *strongly* encouraged to begin at the beginning, with Sea Change._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, nor do I own the song which was a major inspiration for this story, and whose lyrics you will find atop each section, identified below by the Doctor himself._

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**Prologue**

_He's come to take me back..._

_Larrik Hollow, Serenity, Original Universe_

The late summer silence hung heavily over the farmstead nestled into Larrik Hollow; while the afternoon air was pregnant with the seductive scents of growing things, all the hard work of beginning their yearly growth was finished, and the harder work of harvesting them had not yet begun.

A visitor wandering up the path from the gate might be forgiven for thinking there was nobody home; no sights or sounds of activity could be had. An especially sharp-eared visitor, however, if he held his breath, might barely catch the slightest sound of someone idly humming a very old tune, and if they caught enough of it, they might be able to trace the humming to its source: the wide double hammock strung between the two largest banana trees in the grove behind the cottage.

The two occupants of said hammock were drowsily whiling away the afternoon, sipping banana daiquiris, listening to the bees droning through the grove and garden and watching the larriks, the small, brightly-plumaged songbirds the farm was named for, darting to and fro in the sunshine. Rose and the Doctor had the farm to themselves, as Jenny and fourteen-year-old Brandon had moved a short distance down the lane with Jack, and Joshua was away in the Baby TARDIS, discovering the universe during these his first "solo" trips.

"What is that song you're humming?" Rose asked her bondmate.

"Hmm?" He hadn't really been paying attention to his own noise, and had to mentally tune in to the song to discover its identity. "Oh, it's a lovely old Earth song from a bit before your time, called Tapestry. Carole King wrote it for me after my friend Janis Joplin died – you know, the one who gave me my favorite coat?"

Rose had never heard of either of them – they were definitely before her time. "So how does it go?" she asked to divert him from ancient history, and he obligingly sang the entire song.

When he was finished, they swung in companionable silence for a bit, thinking about the images it conjured up. "That's an interesting way to think about a life," she offered, then twisted her neck to grin up at her husband. "But your life's tapestry would be one ginormous, tangled mess, so it would."

The Doctor laughed. "Which is why I never intend to try to actually weave it. Besides, I'm having too much fun living life to stop and tell the story, that way or any other. And who'd be interested, anyway?"

"I think a lot of people would, but you're right. It's so much more fun to live for yourself than hear about other people's lives."

"More useful and productive, too." Suddenly he sat up – as best one can in a hammock, anyway – and stilled it with a foot on the ground. "What was that?"

"What?" Rose struggled upright, too, then hauled herself out of the hammock as a figure came walking out the side door of the house. "Joshua?"

They didn't see him clearly at first, as he paused briefly then came swiftly up the path winding through the banana trees. Then, as he got closer, they both drew in sharp breaths. This Joshua was quite obviously _much_ older than the one who had left just a few days before.

"Josh?" asked the Doctor, concerned. "What happened?"

He didn't answer, but took the last few steps to them in three long, swift strides, throwing an arm around each of them and pulling them to hold tightly. His shoulder shook, and they realized at the same moment that he was sobbing quietly. "_I've missed you both so much! _" he choked out.

They both held him closely in return, and after a minute he got himself under control, and they drew back slightly to see each other's faces. "What happened?" repeated the Doctor, greatly concerned. "How long have you been gone? Why weren't you able to get back?"

Joshua shook his head. "No, that's not it. I – the me that left here a couple of days ago – I'll be back tomorrow. This is something else."

The Doctor was growing even more concerned. "You're crossing your own timeline? Joshua, you _know _that's forbidden!"

The younger man shook his head again, moving one hand to the Time Lord's shoulder and squeezing it. "It's all right, don't worry. I already lived through this. We won't be here when the young me arrives – though I'll about have a heart attack before I find the message you're going to leave me. You'll tell me to jump ahead three days, and when I do, you'll be back, and this me will be gone again. I won't meet myself, I promise."

The Doctor and Rose glanced at each other, supreme puzzlement written on both faces. "But where are we going?" asked Rose.

Joshua smiled down at her, then back to the Doctor, waiting a beat for emphasis. Then, quietly, "I've come to take you home."


	2. Part I: Fairy Tales

_**Part One**_

_My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue  
An everlasting vision of the ever changing view  
A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold  
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold_

_**Fairy Tales**_

_A short time before (in Joshua's personal timeline), in the Alternate Universe..._

Several months had passed since SesTok had returned the former hostages from SenSaru'a, and the long process of negotiating and mounting a colony to Pacifica begun. Joshua and his parents had returned on SesTok's ship along with Donna and the hostages, rather than taking the fast way in his TARDIS, Baby; the advantages to the proposed colony of their former captor ferrying them all safely home and therefore being present to make a public apology was immediately obvious. Thoughtfully, he'd even gone so far as to return the Mexican girls to their own Universidad, rather than stranding them in Cambridge with the original group. His handling of the assaults on four of the girls (which had occurred while he was a prisoner on his own ship), finding the miscreants and turning them over for punishment, also did much to repair his Earthly reputation, and he was able to begin the return journey to SenSaru'a after a few weeks with a positive, albeit extremely tentative, initial report.

Joshua, Corin, and especially Rose had been incredibly busy since their return, working unbelievably long hours to convince various world leaders of the veracity of the situation, and the incredible opportunity that was staring Earth in the face: the chance to begin an off-world colony, far outside the solar system, on a kind, friendly, Earth-type planet, with the major hurdle of transportation already solved. Joshua had made several trips to Pacifica and SenSaru'a with various dignitaries on board Baby – the hard part was then convincing them that Baby was NOT going to provide the means of transportation to the colonists; the SenSaru were. Then Tony Tyler (Rose's half-brother) jumped in, with all the resources of Pete Tyler Industries (still the world's biggest telecom company) to work with, and magically things began to happen all over the globe.

At last the project was slowly gaining traction and momentum, and it looked as if the family could at least take an evening off (minus Tony, who was busy cajoling mulish American conservative leadership). In a piece of perfect timing, Donna was home again from Cambridge, having finished the courses and passed her final exams – uni officials had given each hostage the choice between taking delayed exams that summer or repeating the final semester, and Donna had been one of several eager and able to forge ahead. She had only a week off, now, before beginning her delayed residency, and was determined to make the most of it, decompressing and lounging around the mansion in pajamas all day.

She was sitting in the large, comfortable living room with Corin and Joshua, listening to the latter tell stories of his life in the other universe with the Doctor and Mama Rose, Mum's twin, while they waited for Mum herself to come home. He'd just gotten himself and Mama Rose out of the disintegrating Time Lock and back to the Doctor's TARDIS when Rose walked through the door, her eyes dancing with suppressed, amused astonishment.

"You are not going to believe this!" she announced to the trio. "I can't believe it myself. Wait, is Tyler here? I asked him to come over for this." Tyler had moved out into a flat two years before.

"No, he's not here yet," answered Corin. "You're not going to make us wait, are you?" he went on, a wide, curious grin daring her to spill the beans.

She snorted. "I should, but I can't. This is too incredible." She flopped dramatically down on the couch next to Joshua. "I got a call today. You'll never guess who from. The Office of the Private Secretary to the Sovereign. Can you guess what they had to say?" She looked around, but each of them shook their head no, and her grin continued even wider. "I'm going to receive an official letter very soon – an invitation to a royal audience with Her Majesty. Can you guess the purpose of this audience?" More head shakes. Rose took a deep breath, and said very carefully, "You are looking at the future Baroness Gallifrey."

For a moment, they could have heard a pin drop. In the kitchen. Then, all three exploded at once: _"Baroness?" _"You're _joking!"_ "Are you _kidding?_"

She let them go on for a moment, then looked at Corin. "Remember John? Our descendent? He never did tell us exactly what his title was, or how it came into the family, just that he was 'the eleventh Lord Gallifrey'. Well, now we know. It's a Barony, because of the SenSaru invasion and the Pacifica colony."

"It's to be an inherited title, then? Not just yours for your lifetime?" he asked.

"Yup. To go to the eldest natural-born child, regardless of gender. I insisted on that part. – One of the reasons for the call was to pin down my preference there."

"Well, that was nice of Her Majesty."

"Wasn't it, though?" Suddenly unable to continue making sense, Rose simply threw her head back and laughed and laughed until tears were streaming down her face – and the others weren't far behind her.

"What in the world is going on?" came a new voice from the doorway, and they swung around to see a tall, good-looking young man in his late twenties, Corin's genes evident in his large brown eyes and unruly hair.

"Tyler!" cried Joshua, springing up from the couch. "Where you been, man? I haven't even seen you once since I got back!"

Tyler stared at the stranger, apparently older than he was, without recognition. "Who are you?"

The question stopped everyone cold. "Tyler!" their father called sharply. "I know you've had your head buried in your lab and your engagement since the SenSaru invasion, but surely you've heard something about it. That's your brother!"

Tyler's jaw dropped – but at Corin, not Joshua. "My brother's a kid, Dad. Or he would be. We don't even know if he's still alive." He turned back to the 'stranger'. "I don't know who you are, or what the hell you're playing at, or how you managed to fool them, but it won't work with me."

"Tyler!" It was Rose's turn, though she tried to keep it light in spite of her son's outrageous behavior. "What have you been smoking? We know where he's been – he went back to the parallel universe with the Doctor!"

"Oh, please, Mum, not those old fairy tales. This is real life, not those silly stories you made up for us when we were kids. There's no such thing as parallel worlds, the Doctor's as real as Santa Claus, and we all know it." He turned back to the 'stranger' yet again, and his tone turned even sharper. "Who _are _you?"

His parents began to splutter their outrage, but Joshua calmly waved them down. "I'll tell you," he told Tyler, "If you'll shake my hand." Rose and Corin caught on immediately, and glanced at each other, smothering grins.

"Shake your hand?" Tyler repeated skeptically. He rolled his eyes, then held out his hand with a wary air of humoring a possibly dangerous mental patient. Josh took the last step between them and grasped the proffered hand firmly, giving it a couple of emphatic pumps – while, with his other hand, he pulled a small blue ball from his pocket, dropped it onto the floor, and then swiftly drew the same free hand dramatically up towards the ceiling and then out towards the walls. To the other three, the two of them seemed to shrink to almost nothing as swiftly as his hand movements and disappeared into the ball still on the floor, then a few moments later, the ball faded out of view. Listening _very_ closely, Rose barely heard the faintest tiny _whoosh whoosh_ of a TARDIS dematerializing.

She let her grin lose then, turning back to Corin. "Think he'll take him to the end of the Earth?" her husband asked drily, reminding her of her own first trip via TARDIS. She laughed, then shook her head, bewildered at her eldest son's very odd behavior.

"He thought we've just been telling _fairy tales_ all these years?"


	3. Missing Links

**Missing Links**

Tyler froze as the walls of a ship's control room suddenly materialized around him, seemingly drawn up from the floor then tossed out to the side by the stranger claiming to be his long-lost baby brother. Not daring to move anything but his eyes, he warily scanned the instrument panels around him.

The stranger dropped Tyler's hand and turned to his left, ignoring Tyler completely. First he punched a prominent red button high on the console marked "Bookmark!", then he leaned over past a chair and worked through some computer program. "Let's see... August twelfth, August twelfth. What year was it? Twenty what? Oh, yeah..." Programming done, he turned again and dropped into the chair directly behind him, swiveling around and working the controls on _that_ panel. The room swayed, and Tyler grabbed onto the back of the third chair for support. A few moments later, the stranger swiveled back and stood again, looking at Tyler for the first time, eyebrows flaring and lips twitching in amusement.

Tyler found his voice. "OK, so you've got some kind of transporter. You work for Torchwood?" In one corner of his mind, he knew that wasn't right, or Mum wouldn't be claiming he was Josh; she'd know who was working for her.

"Nope," came the cheerful, unhelpful reply. The stranger lifted a hand and grabbed the end of a small chain hanging from the ceiling – the kind that usually controlled a ceiling fan. Tyler looked up along the chain to see it attached to another small blue ball, identical to the one the stranger had pulled out of his pocket in Mum's living room, lodged into a small recess above their heads. Just as that tidbit registered, the stranger pulled on the chain, and the ball was tugged out of its socket and fell into his hand – and the walls vanished again, _schlooping_ in a quarter-second into the ball itself, leaving the two men standing in a small clearing in a dense forest.

"Know where we are?" the stranger asked.

Tyler spun on his heels, looking around them. The path and trees _did_ look familiar, somehow – then it hit him. "We're in the woods behind our house." He looked back at the stranger, triumphant. "Your transporter didn't take us very far, did it?"

"Farther than you think, Ty, farther than you think. Say, isn't that the Treasure Oak?" He pointed to a distinctive, large, knotty tree beside the path.

Tyler shrugged. "Maybe. So what?"

"So didn't it get struck by lightning a while back and burn down?"

"Then it isn't the Treasure Oak, is it? – How did you know we called it that?"

He was ignored again. "Sure looks like it, though. It even has the same cavity in the trunk." The stranger grinned. "Looks a whole lot lower down than it used to." He looked back at Tyler, egging him on. "Why don't you see if there's something in there?"

Tyler decided to humor him, and walked over to the tree, sticking his hand inside the oddly familiar hole. He was just about to pull it back out when his fingers brushed against something hard and leathery at the bottom. Fighting the impulse that welled up from deep within that said he did NOT want to do this, he slowly closed his fingers around the object and drew it out. It was a small, green, achingly familiar leather jewelry case. It didn't look like it had been there very long. Tyler glanced back at the stranger, then opened the case. Nestled on the red velvet within was a pair of diamond cufflinks. Tyler's jaw dropped, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

"Dad's cufflinks! How...? What...?"

"Shhh!" the stranger hissed sharply. "Somebody's coming!" He grabbed Tyler and pulled him off the path a few paces behind a bushy evergreen, and they carefully peered out between the branches of their concealment.

A few moments later, a trio of kids came down the path at a half-run, skidding to a stop before the oak. Tyler felt the world drop away from under his feet, as he watched... himself, at ten years old, stretch up and reach into the hole.

"It's gone!" the young Tyler cried. "No! Oh, crap, what happened to it?"

"I _told_ you not to bring 'em out here," a six-year-old Donna squealed. "You are _so_ gonna get it!" Her eyes were shining at the prospect, sisterlike, half in horror, half in anticipatory glee.

Young Tyler was still sweeping his hand around and around the hole, hoping he'd somehow missed the jewelry case the first time. _"SHIT!" _he cried in a strangled scream, Donna squealing again at the forbidden curse word. Finally, he gave up, pulled his hand out, and sank into a disconsolate crouch against the trunk, cradling his head in his hands. "I'm dead. I am so dead. He's gonna _kill_ me."

He looked up at his brother and sister. "What are you staring at, Brat?" he asked five-year-old Joshua. The older Tyler only noticed then that the boy was standing stock still, staring round-eyed at the very tree he and the stranger were hiding behind. The other kids swiveled around, but couldn't see anything.

Tyler peeked at the stranger beside him, and saw he was staring back at the kid just as fixedly. "Ask the date," he murmured.

"What's the date today?" the young Joshua obligingly asked his brother.

Young Tyler had wilted back to staring at the ground. "August twelfth, the day Dad's going to murder me."

"What year?"

His brother just stared, while Donna obligingly gave the answer. "You get weirder every day, Brat," he offered. Just then, a distant piercing parental whistle sounded from the unseen mansion. Young Tyler groaned, then hauled himself up. "Come on, let's go face it. Oh, shit, what am I going to tell him?"

Voices trailing away, the three kids went back down the path, leaving Tyler staring down at the missing cufflinks in his hand. Then he turned and stared at the stranger, seeing for the first time the familiar brown eyes, the curly hair, the features so like both their parents. "Brat?" he breathed the old nickname.

Joshua smiled. "Yup. Hey, Ty."

Ty took a deep breath. "That transporter..."

"Is a time machine. A TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension In Space. Those 'fairy tales' were never fairy tales, bro."

Tyler was still wrapping his mind around it. "This... this is almost twenty years ago."

"Longer than that for me. I've been traveling for over six decades." Tyler looked at him sharply, about to point out how young he looked, mid-thirties, but Josh forestalled him. "Time Lord," he said cryptically, reminding him of another part of those 'fairy tales'. "I don't age."

"I need to sit down..." said Ty.

Josh grabbed his brother's arm, tossed the TARDIS ball down on the forest floor and drew the walls up and out again, then gently pushed him into one of the chairs.

Tyler sat quietly for a long minute, absorbing it all. "Those stories..." he began. "They were all true." Joshua nodded at him from his captain's chair. "Mum and Dad... they're from a parallel world?"

Josh nodded again, grinning. "And that reminds me... There's something I've _always_ wanted to see." He reached a long arm over to the navigation station and began fiddling with the controls again. He alternated between pilot controls and nav for almost a minute, while Tyler held on through the bumps and sways, as he homed in on one specific time and place. "Ah, there they are! Now, back up just a few minutes..." The TARDIS seemed to settle in and stilled, and Josh stood. "Let's see... where are they? Oh, yeah!" He crouched down and opened a compartment under the nav console, pulling out a couple of pairs of chunky binoculars and handing one to Tyler. "Spy-nocs! Sight and sound. Come on!"

He motioned Ty to stand, and as soon as he had, pulled the ball's chain. The walls _schlooped_ away again, leaving them standing atop a rocky cliff overlooking an empty, sandy beach. Joshua stuffed the ball into his pocket, and, motioning Ty to copy him, dropped to his belly and snaked to the edge of the cliff, where they could just peek over. He showed Ty how to work his spy-nocs and then just waited, watching the sand.

"Where are we?" asked Tyler.

"Bad Wolf Bay, Norway. The day they arrived. Look!" And he pointed down to where a large wooden blue box was materializing on the sand. Tyler blinked, suddenly bemused at himself and the calm way he was taking this magic show. Then the door of the box opened, and familiar people – albeit younger than they 'should' be – began walking out.

"Grandmum!" Tyler identified Jackie in a whisper. "And Dad. And Mum."

"That would be Donna," Joshua added. "And that... is the Doctor," realizing even as he spoke that he'd ID'd his dad and uncle by clothing color alone – though Dad had branched out, the Doctor _still_ always wore brown.

Tyler stared for a minute at the other version of his father, then it dawned on him that the spy-nocs were pulling in the distant conversation, too. Josh showed him the volume knob, and they both settled in to watch and listen.

"You _bastard!_" breathed Ty as the Doctor's TARDIS faded out again. He turned to Joshua. "He just _left_ her here! Both of them! Why did he _do _that?"

Josh shushed him, motioning down to the trio left on the sand, who were walking up towards the cliff face below them. Tugging on Ty's sleeve, he melted back away from the edge, then drew the TARDIS walls around them again and spun them into the Void. Ty caught him grinning up at the glowing blue column above his pilot's chair. "Enjoyed that, did you? Yes, Baby, that was you in Dad's pocket."

Then he spun around again and faced Ty, picking up the previous conversation. "He had his reasons. Don't worry, though, he certainly paid for it, for a very long time. Do you remember the next part of the story? How he came back five years later, got stuck in the mirrors, and Mum and Dad pulled him out – and then Mum got twinned like he had, and the other Rose went back with the Doctor?"

"Um..." began Ty. "Not really? How did it go?"

"Let's find out!" grinned his brother. A beat later, he caught on and grinned back. He could get to like this spy stuff, especially with this equipment.


	4. Bird's Eye View

**Bird's-eye View**

"Now, we're going to have to be very, very careful this time," Josh told his brother. "If I recall the story correctly, this scene took place in our front hall, indoors. We'll need to find a hiding place, and stay inside Baby."

"Won't they see the TARDIS?"

"Not if I put the perception filter on, and stay out of the way." He motioned up above the consoles, and Ty noticed the narrow windows for the first time. "The perspective may be odd, but we should be OK." _I'm more worried about the Doctor's TARDIS perceiving us and giving us away, but since no mention of intruders was ever in Mum's story, I guess we'll be OK._ He didn't share that with Ty, though; his brother had enough to be chewing on.

"How do you know when it happened?"

"It was the night of their fifth wedding anniversary, remember?"

"Then where was I?"

"In the U.S. with Grandad and Grandmum and Uncle Tony, on their zeppelin."

"Oh, yeah! I remember that trip now! Why can't I remember the story, then?"

Joshua shrugged. Ty probably didn't _want_ to remember, but no need to say that, either.

Working carefully, he brought the TARDIS back to the same spot in the living room that they'd recently dematerialized from, but on the day in question, fading into view a few minutes before ten pm, the time it had all begun according to Dad's diary. Reaching out with Baby's sensors, he discovered that Mum and Dad were upstairs in their room, so he rolled the blue ball into the hallway and looked around. "Ah-hah!" He _whooshed_ the TARDIS diagonally a few yards, and Ty looked out the windows to find them on the second floor, on the landing atop the right-hand branch of the grand staircase, opposite the one leading to their parents' suite. Josh then rolled them to the corner where the wall met the railing, and they had a bird's-eye view of the stairs and front hallway, looking down and across to the large portrait of Corin and Rose that had started all the trouble.

Double-checking the perception filter was on, Josh looked up at the Time Rotor above the pilot's station and began speaking softly. "I'm sorry, Baby, I know you're excited, but I need to shut you down as far as possible, so your Mama doesn't notice you."

He began flicking switches, powering down the various controls, as Ty snorted. "You act like this thing's alive."

Josh turned and stared. "She _is_ alive, Ty. Sentient, with a personality – and feelings, so watch what you say, please. She might just decide to leave you somewhere or somewhen you don't want to be."

Surprised, still not sure how much of all this was a joke, Ty mumbled "sorry" with as much grace as he could muster. Josh decided to be satisfied with what he could get, and went on until only a few lights were left here and there, then he turned on the outside audio and extended it to cover the entire mansion – just as Rose screamed from the bedroom, and a moment later, screamed again.

Ty jumped about a foot. "Mum!" he cried without thinking, and they both stood up to peer out through the high windows. Ty turned mystified, frightened eyes towards Josh. "What the...?"

"She must have just seen the Doctor in the mirror for the first time. Shh... listen..."

Indistinct murmurs were coming from the hallway across the gap, then they heard Corin speak more clearly. "He's been put into the mirrors. He's in all mirrors, everywhere. But how did he get into this universe?"

Mum again: "No... no... I can't do this. I can't go through this again. I can't... I _can't_..." A few seconds later she came running down the hallway clad in only a nightgown, stumbling headlong down the stairs and through the living room door beneath them, Dad in his bathrobe trailing behind by a few seconds. The two watchers heard the terrace door flung open, and their parents evidently went outside. Ty turned to Josh with a question, but the Time Lord held up a hand, listening intensely to the muffled sounds from outside. Only a few minutes passed before the pair returned, much more calmly, trailed by a pair of – to Ty – strangers. Rose climbed the stairs again, while Corin pointed the way towards the kitchen, explaining where the tea makings were, then followed his wife again, apparently to put on some clothes.

As the strangers went back kitchenward, Josh saw Tyler's eyebrows had shot appreciatively nearly to his hairline. "Whoa. Who was _that?_" he asked.

Josh grinned. "Jenny. The Doctor's daughter. She was born before Dad was, so we were never quite able to decide if we were cousins or siblings. But the important thing, bro, is this: she's taken. Most decidedly."

Ty pointed toward the kitchen. "By him?"

"No, that was John, one of Mum and Dad's descendents, from the future. Which, come to think of it," he added thoughtfully, "I think means he's also yours. Donna's line is going to go differently." He hadn't thought it possible, but Ty's brows arched even higher, and he stared, nonplussed. Josh punched his shoulder. "But wait a minute. Didn't I hear Dad say something about an engagement when you came in earlier?"

Ty blinked and then actually blushed, grinning almost shyly. "Yeah. Getting married in a couple of months."

"Congrats! Who's the lucky lady?"

"Tamara Sibley. She works in Accounting, at PTI." Obviously changing the subject, he turned it back to his brother. "You ever get married, Brat?"

Josh turned back to the window, his broad smile fading swiftly into wistfulness. Finally, he answered softly, "Yeah. Once." He glanced back at Ty and shook his head, and Ty understood and said no more. _Touchy subject, _he thought.

Just then Josh waved a hand for silence, and Ty turned back to see Rose and Corin, fully dressed again, walk hand-in-hand (_as always_, thought Josh with a mental grin) down the stairs and back to the kitchen. As muffled voices came down the hallway, Josh dropped down into Ty's vacated seat and began fiddling with the audio controls until he'd homed in on the source, and the brothers settled in to listen to Jenny's long explanation of the events that had led to this evening's meetings.

Ty's head was spinning with all the revelations of time travel, alternate universes, and such. Josh, however, homed in on a few points that mostly escaped his brother: the hell the Doctor had gone through since leaving Mum and Dad here. _Oh, yeah. He paid for it, all right. With a good chunk of his sanity._ Some pieces were falling into place in his understanding of the Doctor's history. He couldn't wait to see the next part.

When the foursome came back into the hallway to set up their "beacon" for drawing the Doctor's gazillion shards back to this point to rescue him from the mirrors (Rose heading upstairs to check on baby Donna), the brothers watched the proceedings from their hidden perch with interest and quite different levels of comprehension. Josh held his breath as the Doctor's TARDIS _whooshed_ in to a spot almost directly beneath them, just a few yards away, but as the subsequent minutes ticked away with no indication that they had been detected by the old time ship, he slowly relaxed – slightly.

When Dad brought Mum back downstairs, they could tell she'd been crying. She was seated in the chair in the center of the circle, the coverings pulled off the mirrors – and then things _really_ got interesting. Ty could see the tiny but growing glow rising from the perimeter rope Jenny had laid out, but Joshua, reaching out with all his extra senses, could _feel_ it. His mind almost brushed against Dad's, and he saw him jerk upright from where he was leaning against the wall, but then he simply shifted over and leaned against the TARDIS, instead. Joshua carefully opened his mind to receive anything he could, but didn't reach out again. It was tough not joining his parents' mental call to the Doctor, sending out the missing Time Lord's true name into the ether – and he realized he'd never heard that name before, and carefully filed it away deep within his memory, locking it up tight so it might never be read by another, vowing to himself he'd never use it.

Then he shook his head and began to concentrate again on what was actually happening in the hall below. The Doctor's form was slowly coalescing and taking shape in the center of the circle, behind Rose's chair. Over the next few minutes he watched breathlessly along with all the others as the gaunt, skeletal figure materialized, then raised a spectral hand as if to touch his lost love. Unlike the others, though, Joshua could just barely perceive a steady stream of infinitely tiny particles flowing from both mirrors to the coalescing figure, and realized he was actually seeing the myriad bits of Doctor responding to the beacon. Suddenly, he shifted his focus onto his mother, realizing that for his eyes alone, _she_ was glowing, too, with the faintest, palest echo of the Doctor's growing radiance, and that the energy hadn't settled onto her from the fine mist within the perimeter rope, but was slowly seeping out from deep within herself.

Rose turned and stood, reaching for the ghost Doctor's hand, but they couldn't touch – and then, a few seconds later, they could. Joshua gasped quietly along with the others as Jenny's famous one-two punch landed, first outlining the returning Time Lord with blinding white, then the familiar, but trebly-intensified golden glow of Vortex energy. He saw even before his father did when the energy slid down the Doctor's arm and onto Rose, attracted to and merging with the energy already there. As Corin nearly screamed "Nooooo!" and lunged forward to wrap his arms around his wife, the Vortex glow intensified on her skin, until it was nearly as bright as on the Doctor's.

For a few endless seconds, the tableau stood frozen, then Corin succeeded in wrenching Rose away from the Doctor's grip, and he fell to the floor with her solid, unglowing body wrapped in his arms. But her glowing outline still remained, holding the Doctor's hand – and then the glow intensified even further until it matched the Time Lord's. Within a second, they both went incandescent, burning out the watchers' retinas, and then faded just as suddenly into their newly solid bodies. The two of them fell the other direction, still holding hands, and for one breathless moment all was still.

Gradually, Ty and Joshua remembered how to breathe, as they continued to stand silently watching the various parties realize what had happened, and then listened to the newly-reborn Doctor spill out his tormented memories from after he'd left his love and his other self here in this reality. Their Dad did his best to soothe the Time Lord's guilt, then got the idea to send the new couple off on a "kick-ass vacation" to Bora Bora. A burst of activity later, the old blue box _whooshed_ away, and the brothers watched their parents wrap their arms around each other and slowly mount the stairs again, alone (so they thought) at last.

Josh finally collapsed back into his chair, as Ty did the same beside him. They turned and stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"Wow," breathed Ty.


	5. Reflections

**Reflections**

Josh waited a few minutes to make sure the coast was clear, then quietly brought Baby back online and spun the time ship into the Void, away from the mind-bending scene they'd just witnessed. Checking to make sure all the protective shields were up, he turned to Tyler with a grin. "Hungry?"

"Hell, yes!"

Josh led the way out the arched doorway in the third wall of the triangular bridge and paused to let his brother take in the sight. They were on a large circular balcony ringing an open atrium, with a dozen open arches or closed doors spaced around the outside. Ty took the three steps to the railing and gaped down at the majestic, mature tree – he thought it might be an oak, but he was no arborist – filling the space below. He could see five other balconies below theirs, then the atrium floor, which looked from here to be an actual living meadow, carpeted with grasses and wildflowers beneath the tree. Above their heads (they were on the top floor) swooped a domed skylight, beyond which currently lay the swirling, effervescing vapors that were the visible manifestation of the Void.

"Whoa!" Tyler closed his eyes and rubbed his face, hard. He looked at Joshua, full of trepidatious wonder. "And all this... is in that little ball?"

Joshua's grin stretched even wider. "Bigger on the inside, like any TARDIS. The old Time Lords were masters of trans-dimensional space." He gestured out across the atrium. "This was an actual spaceship, though – a luxury space yacht, that we converted into a TARDIS."

"So you didn't build this?"

"No. We planted the tree, though. It's a tavorik tree, from the planet Serenity, where we lived for several decades." A sudden flittering movement caught his eye, and he pointed it out to Ty. "See those birds? They're larriks, also from Serenity. Gorgeous little songbirds. We didn't deliberately bring them in; they came in with the tree and set up housekeeping. I'm not complaining, though." He leaned, sighing, against the railing. "I've got a piece of home, right here, that I take with me everywhere in time and space." He shot a sly grin sideways at his brother. "Even into alternate universes."

Thus reminded of recent events, Ty mirrored his brother's stance, leaning on the railing and staring thoughtfully down at the cavorting larriks. "So let me get this straight. Dad and this Doctor, who we just saw..."

He groped for the word, and Josh supplied one: "extracted."

"Right. Extracted from the mirrors... they used to be the same person?"

"Yup. Dad was created from the Doctor in a freak accident – something a bit similar to what we just saw, but also different in some important ways. Without going into a lot of detail, there was also another human inadvertently involved in that process, Donna Noble – yeah, the lady sis is named after – who made Dad part human."

"But isn't there something about memories, too?"

"Yeah. Dad was born with all the Doctor's memories up to that point – just as the Rose we saw created just now has all Mum's memories to that point, too."

"And that new Rose is going – did go – back to the other universe with the Doctor, and that's why we never saw them?"

"Right."

"But somehow you slipped through, too? That's where you've been?"

"Right again."

"With them?"

"Yup."

Ty thought a while, digesting. "What was that like? What are they like? The Doctor and the other Rose?"

"They're both very very much like Mum and Dad. Though... Mama Rose is much more like Mum than Dad is like the Doctor. Dad's frankly more human, and the influences from Donna come through sometimes. They're hard to quantify, though. But the Doctor is still all Time Lord, and an alien, when you get down to it. Sometimes that can't help but show." It was his turn to think for a bit. "I've seen differences in Mum, though, too, since I've been back. Just because they've been living different lives since they split, I guess. Mum's more businesslike, more corporate, if you know what I mean, from running Torchwood all these years. Mama Rose is... softer. Looser." He glanced sideways. "Do me a huge favor, though. Please don't EVER repeat that to either one of them. I value my life."

Ty grinned. "You got it. Hey, didn't you say something about food?"

Josh laughed and pointed across the atrium to one of the open arches on this level. "Kitchen."

The kitchen had been transplanted whole from some intergalactic gourmet chef's private domain, complete with every kind of gadget and a humongous pantry with a myriad of stasis chambers that kept fresh foods at their peak of perfection quite literally indefinitely. Joshua quite obviously loved to cook, and he dove into showing off for his brother with glee, whipping up a delicious three-course meal in an obscenely short time. Tyler, whose own abilities ran more into microwave nachos and dialing for take-out, was suitably impressed.

During the preparation and consumption thereafter, they talked about what they'd seen that day, and then the rest of the family "fairy tales", Josh continuing to assure his brother of their veracity, even those he hadn't personally witnessed. He'd done enough traveling with the Doctor, and by himself, and knew his Mum and Dad well enough to know they'd never embellished those tales; they didn't need to.

Finally, dishes cleared away and the kitchen gleaming again, Tyler leaned back in his chair and said a bit dreamily, perhaps thinking of his own upcoming nuptials, "You know, there's one other thing I'd like to see. Not to verify anything, but just to be there. I'd love to see Mum and Dad's wedding. By all accounts, it was really something."

"Why not?" said Josh, and led the way back to the bridge.

They stayed in the perception-filtered TARDIS through the ceremony, perched in the tree that towered over the edge of the terrace. When the congregation moved to the huge adjacent lawn with its temporary bandstand and dance floor to start the party, they snuck out to join the fun, dressed in a pair of tuxedos Josh unearthed from Baby's massive wardrobe (he was in constant competition with the Doctor over the size and eclecticism of his clothing collection).

"I could get used to doing stuff like this," grinned Tyler.

Josh returned the smile, but it froze on his face as his gaze shifted beyond his brother to a man standing on the far side of the gathering. He clutched at Ty's sleeve and dragged him quickly behind a nearby evergreen, reminding Ty immediately of their adventure in the woods with the cufflinks – which were now on his own sleeves.

"What in the world?" he demanded.

"It's the Doctor," breathed Josh. "He's here." His voice sounded unbelieving.

"Where?" Ty looked around, but saw nobody who resembled Dad anywhere. Josh pointed to the man he was staring at, completely unlike the familiar visage: blue eyes and curly black hair, olive skin.

Josh saw that Ty was completely nonplussed, and whispered, "Regeneration, remember? He changes, completely. That's a later version of him." _Much later. Much MUCH later. What the HELL is he doing here, and how did he get here? And when?_

Ty finally caught on. "So he'd recognize you?"

"Yup. We'd better get out of here. No, wait." He grabbed Ty's sleeve again, and they watched as the Doctor, his face convulsed in remembered pain at the couple now dancing to an old big band tune, turned abruptly away, set his tray of champagne glasses down on a nearby table (he'd been pretending to be a waiter, apparently), and slipped out away from the crowd. Concentrating fiercely, Josh caught the faintest, distant _whoosh_ of the old TARDIS dematerializing a few seconds later.

He let his breath out in a mimicking whoosh, and turned to Ty in relief, but the other man shook his head. "We'd better go, anyway, this place is crawling with Security. Look, there's Hamlin there – looks like he saw the Doctor, too, but he got away."

Josh looked, and saw the old Security Chief talking surreptitiously into a handmike, and then focused in on the large number of be-tuxed young men, obviously also security, circulating purposefully through the guests and around the perimeter. He nodded, pulled Baby out of his pocket, and pulled her walls up and over them again, and their own tiny _whoosh_ sent them into the Void behind the old Time Lord.


	6. Many Meetings

**Many Meetings**

Joshua spun Baby into the Void again, away from his parents' wedding reception, and sat back, staring unseeing up at the glowing Time Rotor, lost in thought. Tyler let him be for a few minutes, then suddenly a computer screen at the third, empty workstation lit up with a whistle, and a single, familiar, flashing word was splashed across it in an extra-large flowing script font.

"What's that?" he asked, bringing Josh out of the clouds. His brother spun around and looked, and a huge grin split his face.

"Brandon! That's his signal that he's ready to go." He'd told Ty while they ate the story of his cousin and regular traveling companion, born to the two "strangers" that had helped bring the Doctor out of the mirrors: Jenny and John, the Eleventh Lord Gallifrey; and how Brandon was visiting his father for the first time up in John's own time frame.

"And somehow he's able to send a message through the Void to the TARDIS?" Ty asked, then added, "Please don't try to explain how, my head's already spinning." He glanced back at the screen, and couldn't help but laugh, though he didn't have to explain why to his little brother.

It said: _Allons-y!_

^..^

Several subjective days later saw Baby's walls being drawn up again around not two, but three congenial young men; the brothers were now joined by their cousin/descendant. Whilst scrupulously observing the twin family traditions of "tall" and "good-looking", Brandon conspicuously paid tribute to his parentage by paring Jenny's wheat-blonde hair with John's open, friendly face, to the disadvantage of neither trait.

Once they'd arrived at the future estate, Joshua and Tyler had been enjoined to stay on and enjoy the hospitality of their descendent – Josh reminding his brother that the T in TARDIS did stand for "time", and so the length of their trip had nothing to do with the time of their return to their parents' living room. And so they accepted, celebrating Christmas with the family in the middle of what to Tyler, at any rate, should have been July. It turns out Brandon had spent nearly a year with his father, and deliberately sent his pick-up signal to get Joshua there for the holidays. The usual post-New Years bustle of everyone returning to normal therefore made his probably-forever farewell go down just the slightest bit easier for all concerned.

The three of them fell into their usual chairs, and Joshua spun Baby into the Void once more, but then, to Tyler's surprise, did not immediately set course for home. Instead, he spun around in his chair and banged his heel hard in the middle of an eighteen-inch circle engraved in the floor of the bridge, and a column that same size rose smoothly up until it was at knee height. A second bang, hastily removing his foot afterward, brought it up to table height, then a third sharp rap with the pilot's knuckles saw the top sprout a dozen petals, which irised outward to make a table three times the diameter of the column.

"Deal," Josh grinned at Brandon.

Ty looked that way himself, and saw his cousin ready with a deck of cards, raising a quizzical brow in his direction. "What's your pleasure?" he was asked.

He looked his confusion back at Josh, who shook his head. "I know you play poker, bro. _Every_ mathematician plays poker. You can't help it. It's in your genetic makeup."

Oh. _Poker._ Trying mightily to look like he'd not been caught flatfooted, Ty leaned back and grinned. "How much can you afford to lose, Brat?"

^..^

"He thought we've just been telling _fairy tales_ all these years?" Rose asked of Corin and Donna, bewildered at Tyler's behavior.

Corin shrugged, equally bewildered, but their daughter nodded. "He's been saying that to me privately for years, Mum. Well," she added as her parents turned shocked faces towards her, "look at it from his point of view. All we ever had was your say-so; you never had any concrete proof to offer. And the way you told them – as bedtime stories. What kid who grows up a hard-nosed scientist like Ty is going to keep believing his parents' nighttime tales of fairies and ogres and magical beans – or time machines and Time Lords and alternate universes?"

"But he _is_ a scientist!" Corin protested. "He works with – or can talk intelligently about – nuclear physics, string theory, even the Many Worlds theory. How can he not believe the proof in front of him?"

Donna looked pityingly at him. "Talking about a _theory, _even accepting it as plausible, is a far cry from believing somebody's claim to have come from a parallel world, Dad. Even your dad's. And let's face it like scientists: what real _evidence_ have you ever been able to present for your claim?"

Corin gaped, then shut his mouth with a snap, transferring a rueful look to Rose. "Well, none, I guess, now that you mention it." She grimaced and shook her head. "I guess we shouldn't blame him for his disbelief," he concluded. "But it sure does sting."

Rose's expression turned sympathetic, then she shot her husband a wicked grin. "I'll bet he'll be singing a different tune when he gets back, though." She stopped suddenly, holding up a hand. "And speaking of which... I think they're back." She'd caught the faint, tiny _whoosh, whoosh_ of Baby's reappearance near the doorway.

The trio looked that way just in time to see the two brothers – with a stranger in tow – spring into existence, Joshua just catching the mid-air-appearing blue ball in one hand then stuffing it into his pocket. Seeing the stranger, Corin stood up to greet him, realizing as he did that he was childishly giving his eldest son the cold shoulder for his earlier attitude.

Joshua must have caught the thought, because he flashed a quick grin as he pulled the stranger forward. "Mum, Dad, may I present Jenny's son Brandon, known publicly as Vondamelor. Brandon, my parents, Rose and Corin Gallifrey – and my sister, Donna." Then he flashed another grin at Rose. "Or should I say Baroness? Did we miss the ceremony?"

"You know you didn't," she replied, standing up to greet Brandon. "You left just five minutes ago." She shook the visitor's hand. "Welcome to our home, Brandon. Oh, I can definitely see John in your features."

"And Jenny, too," Corin added. "What was that public name again?"

"Vondamelor," Brandon replied. "It's the Serenite word for 'Doctor' – I went through medical school on Serenity, and I've been studying medicine ever since."

"He's too modest, as always," said Josh. "What he's not saying is that he's an intergalactic genetic specialist, and he's been building a massive database in Baby for the past forty years, that some day he's going to give over to some grateful university hospital far in the future."

"Well!" exclaimed Corin. "Are you planning on sticking around for a decade or two? They could probably use your help on Pacifica, solving the SenSaru problem."

Brandon grinned. "I'll think about it. Depends on my chauffeur, here – he keeps haring off on his own tangents, dragging me haplessly along for the ride."

"Like you don't enjoy every second of it," Josh replied, punching him on the shoulder.

Tyler had been hanging back silently during the introductions. Now Corin turned to him and simply raised his eyebrows, and he had the grace to look sheepish. "I... owe you an apology."

"Yeah, you do." Corin decided he was still feeling childish enough not to help him out too much.

"And I owe you something else, too." He'd had his hands stuffed in his pockets; now he pulled one out and held something out to Corin wrapped in his fist.

Curiosity piqued, Corin took it; a small green leather case. He thought it looked familiar, but couldn't place it – until he opened it up. "My cufflinks!" he cried. "What...?"

"It's _his_ fault!" Ty began, pointing at his brother, awareness of the automatically defensive kid's protest and amusement at himself for it showing on his face simultaneously. "He took me back in time without telling me, and told me to take 'em, and then I couldn't put 'em back in time for me to find 'em!" He had to stop then, spluttering laughter at the words coming out of his own mouth.

Flushing, he tried to glance reproachfully at Josh, who was laughing at him outright. "Did not!" the Brat replied, sticking out his tongue – and everyone else cracked up at last.

Tyler sobered first, getting agitated the more he thought about it. "Seriously, though, Brat. I was grounded for six months! I couldn't sit down for a week! And you KNEW it! You KNEW we were there, the kid you did, I mean, you were staring right at us! Didn't you?"

"Yup."

"Then why didn't you say anything then? Why did you let me take 'em now?"

"Now, because it had already happened. Then, because I knew we were there, and knew it had to be for a reason."

Ty stared, then shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

He looked his confusion at Corin, who laughed again, putting his arm around his son's shoulders. "Welcome to causal time loops, son." He looked at Josh, adding, "I am _so_ glad I don't have to deal with them any more. You're welcome to them!"

Settling down again onto the comfortable couches, Rose turned to Joshua. "I still love that schnazzy way you get in and out of Baby. But that reminds me: how did you get the ship you grafted her onto? You never did tell us that story, just said it was interesting."

Josh grinned. "Speaking of causal time loops... Remember the story I told you of how we had to go back in time during our eighth year on Serenity, to fix the timeline – and that's when we ran into Jack Harkness?" His parents nodded. "OK. About three years before that, in our fifth year, we picked up this cruise ship at a government auction. It had been abandoned by its owner some time before, and had been sitting at the spaceport gathering dust and parking fees, till the spaceport owner seized it and sold it off. We didn't know who had abandoned it until some time after our trip back in time. Turns out it was Junia Tonas – the rogue Time Agent who had started all the trouble and fragged Jack's memory – and then got killed by her own bomb in Jack's place." He paused, and grinned even wider. "After we found out, Jack used to _love_ puttering around on Baby, finding and erasing any trace of Tonas."

"So he did stay, after all? With Jenny?" Rose asked.

"Yup. They've been together now for... how long was it, last time we ran into them?" he turned to Brandon, who looked iffy.

"I have a hard enough time keeping track of how old _I_ am, let alone anyone else," he commented. "Wish I had Jack's mental tree rings sometimes. Weren't they a bit past their fiftieth anniversary, though?"

"Right... was that from their wedding, though, or from their reunion?"

Brandon shrugged. "Either way, it's still a long time."

Rose broke in. "So they did get married? How did the Doctor take that?" She was keenly aware of how the Time Lord had felt about the immortal Fixed Point.

Joshua took it up. "Well, he wasn't exactly happy about it, especially at first, but the moment he walked in that first day and found Jack sitting at the kitchen table, Jenny made it perfectly clear he was facing the age-old father's dilemma: accept the suitor, or lose his daughter. Period. He gave in as gracefully as he could. Jack brought him around over time, though, as he proved he wasn't going _anywhere._ And when they finally announced their Life Bonding a few years later, he gave them the same wedding present he gave you: a chunk of TARDIS coral. They've got their own TARDIS now."

"Oi!" he went on suddenly. "That reminds me!" He gave his father a level look. "Would you like another chunk? Not too late, and I've got some to spare."

Corin was completely taken aback. It had never even crossed his mind since his son had returned. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Rose, taking their conversation to their private telepathic bond. _*Well, love? What do you think? Want to take another hack at growing our own time ship?*_

Rose hesitated – just a moment too long. _*If you want to, love. It's up to you.*_

He grinned. _*Me, neither.*_ Turning back to Joshua, he went vocal. "Thank you, son, but no. Our days of dashing about the universe are behind us now. We're not young any more; by the time we had a working TARDIS we'd have to put wheelchair ramps in."

Of course, that garnered a chorus of protests from the younger generation that they weren't _that_ old, which Corin waved indulgently (albeit appreciatively) down.

Joshua smiled again when the noise died down. "Offer number two, then. One more trip? I do need to find some gallinium, for all three TARDISes." He grinned suddenly at Corin. "I never could decide what the plural of TARDIS is. TARDISes? TARDI?"

Corin pulled his drollest face. "From my experience – read: the Doctor's – the plural of TARDIS is usually trouble."

"Ba-dum-BUM!" Brandon supplied the rim shot.

After the laughter – mixed liberally with groans – Rose raised the question. "Where do you get gallinium?"

"Only one place in the multi-verse, Mum. On Gallifrey." Josh smiled again. "I've a hankering to see the old rock, for more than the second I was on it before. Want to come along?"

His parents looked at each other questioningly, but it was no question at all. "Sure!" said Rose enthusiastically.

"Just do me a favor, please, love," her husband entreated her. "Don't go stepping through any time portals this time."

She grinned back. "And let's not bring back any souvenirs this time, either."

Joshua was the only other one who caught that reference, and he snickered. When the other three looked at him, puzzled, he pointed to himself and silently reminded them: he'd been conceived on Gallifrey.

^..^

A short time later, Baby _whooshed_ into existence on Gallifrey, on the same high plateau she'd visited so briefly before when she really was a baby TARDIS; the same location where the majestic domed city of the Time Lords had once stood in the parallel world. Tyler and Donna had both elected to stay behind, claiming they'd had enough of Traveling-with-a-capital-T recently to last them a while, so Corin and Rose were the only additional passengers crammed into the bridge, he standing behind her seat while Brandon and Joshua worked their controls.

Joshua stood, motioning the others up as well, and reached for the chain to tug them out of the time ship, when suddenly a startled-sounding whistle came from the controls at Rose's station – environmental and outside sensors. Josh leaned over and peered at the data that Baby tossed onto the display – and his jaw dropped.

"There's someone here! There's people here on Gallifrey!"

"WHAT?" exclaimed Corin. "That's not possible. It's uninhabited, always has been in this universe. In _every_ universe other than our old one."

"Nevertheless, Dad, Baby says there's people here. Not animals, people. Not very many – maybe a couple hundred."

"Where?"

"Over on the coast, west of here – right off Crystal Bay, in fact." Baby had downloaded Gallifreyan geography from her Mama (along with the rest of her massive database).

The four of them stared at each other, then Rose voiced it. "Who?"

A sudden grin split Joshua's face, a bare quarter-second before it reached the others'. "Let's go find out!"

A few moments later, Joshua pulled the ball for real, and it fell into his hand to leave them gazing wide-eyed around at a primitive-looking settlement of earthen huts and open fires. If it was a colony from another world – and what else could it be? – the colonists had evidently been dumped there without benefit of ANY technology.

As soon as they flashed into existence, they were spotted, and within seconds, everyone within view had turned to stare openmouthed, while others came at a run to join the expanding circle. Curiously, Joshua noted the almost-complete silence: word of the strangers' arrival must have been being passed telepathically.

Just as it crossed his mind, a woman's voice broke the silence, startling him down to his toes by gasping out his own name. "_Joshua?_" Along with the others, he turned to his right, seeing an astonishingly familiar face. The black-haired woman stood two paces before the others in the circle, a very small child in her arms, gaping at him in disbelief.

He stared a moment longer before he finally placed her face, and it almost physically staggered him. "_Romana?_"

Rose and Brandon turned to stare at him, then back at her; both having heard the name before. Corin, though, stood frozen, utterly stupefied, gaping past the bedraggled former Lady President at the older woman standing behind her, whose face he never for a moment believed he'd ever see again. The tattered and stained remnants of once-regal white robes stirred in the slight breeze as she stared back at him with eyes, once wise and eternally serene, now shadowed with toil and heartbreak – and dawning, incredulous, tearful joy.

"Doctor?" she quavered past shaking, reaching hands. "Son?" And with that, for the first time in her centuries-long life, Lady Tis'hania fainted.


	7. Part II: Accidental Colonists

_**Part Two**_

_Once amid the soft silver sadness in the sky  
There came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by  
He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide  
And a coat of many colors, yellow-green on either side_

**Accidental Colonists**

_Six years previous, on New Gallifrey, Alternate Universe_

"Are you all right?" Tis'hania leaned over the last refugee to make it through the crack in time and space before it had slammed shut and disappeared: a young-looking woman with long black hair, crouched on her hands and knees in an ornate, old-fashioned robe, lungs heaving to catch her breath.

When the woman looked up and smiled at her, Tis'hania blinked, then gasped in recognition. "Lady Romana? Is that you?"

As Romana nodded, then began to climb unsteadily to her feet, the erstwhile Chamber Guard nearby first gasped and then added his voice, turning and calling to the next. "Lady Romana! Lady President Romana has returned!" The word spread swiftly through the panting, terrified group, and as one they turned and gathered swiftly around their former, long-disappeared leader.

"Where have you been? How is it you are returned?" Lady Tis'hania asked, quieting the uproar with the ease of long custom, by dint of simply asking the questions on everyone's lips.

"How long have I been gone?"

"Over three hundred years," came the quietly emphatic reply.

Romana nodded, more to herself than the others. "Yes, that's what they said." She gave a soft snort and a rueful smile. "To me, it's been less than two hours since I last stood in the Council Chamber, preparing to stop the time dilations." Although pitching her voice so it would carry at least through the first ranks (knowing the rest would hear telepathically, if nothing else), she looked and spoke directly to the elder woman. "I've been in the Chamber of Harmony, outside of time, within the Vortex, working to solve the various puzzles in their proper times." She paused just a beat, and added _sotto voce_. "Alongside the others you sent below, first to set the lock, then to break it."

Tis'hania's eyes flew open wide. "You saw my son?" she whispered.

"Yes," was the equally low reply. "And your grandson, Joshua." When the other gaped at that, not having known about that relationship before, Romana gave her a small smile and, reaching out, squeezed the older woman's hand. "We'll talk all that out later," she whispered, then turned again to face the crowd. "After that work was done, and the Time Lock ready to be broken, I made my way through the Vortex and out of the Chamber of Harmony, back up through the levels to the outer door, then around the side into the Council Chamber, just in time to make it through that crack."

She began then to look around at the landscape, but a voice came from a few ranks back. "Did the other two make it out? The woman and the boy? I don't see them here."

Romana nodded. "I believe they did. I gave them a good head start, and saw no trace of them on the way up." She turned to Tis'hania. "He said they had an escape plan, at least. What was it?"

"A half-formed TARDIS coral, that they'd used to get here. Or rather there." Tis'hania shook her head, signaling they'd hash _that_ out later, too, and pointedly turned her own head to survey the scene. "Where are we? Or when?"

"We're still on the Citadel Plateau – look, there are the Nine Lords!" Romana pointed out the unmistakable rock formations lining the nearby ridge. "But there's no sign at all of the city itself, as it if had never been! Have we been sent back in time a million years or more?"

"Or forward?" came a voice from nearby. "The Daleks were inches from destroying the Citadel, and the entire planet was burning from their onslaught. How long would it take for the planet to recover to this state?"

A murmur began sweeping through the mass, but Tis'hania suddenly froze as another recent memory came tumbling out. The young man who had first appeared in that half-formed coral, followed swiftly by the Doctor's bondmate, had told her their call had pulled him across... "The Void," she whispered. Romana looked at her sharply, and she forced her voice louder. "Not through time, Lady Romana. Through the Void. We've been transported to another universe. A parallel Gallifrey to our own. The same universe the other two came from – the two who answered our call," she added in explanation to the other Councillors. "The last crack reversed their path to us."

Romana may not have grasped the details of that explanation, but realized those details could wait for a more leisurely time. "Then is there a colony on this Gallifrey?"

Tis'hania, thinking hard, shook her head. "He didn't say."

Another standing nearby, though, reminded her, "The woman was human, though, Lady. And the boy seemed at least partly human. Likely from Earth." He didn't quite manage to keep the disdain for that planet from his voice, but well enough to ignore it.

Romana began doing what she did best of all, cutting through the chaff to the heart of the matter. "We can't rely on help from that quarter, then. If there is a colony here, it will be a pleasant surprise, but don't count on it."

Another voice from further back broke in. "So how do we get back home?" A swell of murmurs supported the voice.

While Romana instantly began considering that question, _could they generate a path with..._, Tis'hania turned on the voice with harsh disdain. "Get back to _what?_ There _is_ no 'home'. Our planet is utterly destroyed by now. Haven't you been paying attention the last hundred years? If the Dalek fleet didn't scorch it to a cinder, the breaking of the Time Lock, and the backlash as the Porterion Nebula caught up with the rest of the universe, will have ground it to dust. _There is no going back._"

Romana's mind snapped back to the Chamber of Harmony, and the vision she'd seen in the Doctor's mind of the war he had come below to stop, the eminent destruction of the Citadel in his time, and realized Tis'hania was right. There was nothing to go back to, now. "Besides," she gave voice to the subsequent thought as it hit her, "how _would_ you suggest we go back? Do any of you have a TARDIS in your pocket?" A corner of her mind spared a moment's amusement for that outrageous idea – no one had ever squeezed one that tiny before. "Or a spare Vortex? No? How about a sonic screwdriver?" Tis'hania was the only one who caught that oblique reference to the Doctor, and she shot Romana a nanosecond-long amused glance. "Anyone?" Romana went on, then pointed out past the Nine Lords. "Well, I suppose we might get some help from the Untempered Schism – if it exists in this universe, it's only about 900 miles in that direction. Go ahead, we'll wait." Speaking of the Doctor, she suddenly heard the echoes of her old irritator seeping into her own voice, and cut herself off ruthlessly.

Everyone standing on the plateau had turned still as statues, as the immensity of the situation seeped into them. Finally, one of them voiced it. "You mean we're stuck here? Forever? With only our bare hands and the clothes on our backs?"

"Yes," Lady President Romana answered levelly, pitching her voice again so all could hear. "This group is all that remains of the once-mighty race of Time Lords. The old Gallifrey is gone, by now destroyed. But there's an old saying: where there's life, there's hope. And I, for one, am _not_ simply going to curl up and die, and let my people die with me. I'm going to start over, and I'm going to do _everything in my power_ to see us re-established here, on this pristine Gallifrey.

"We have more than our bare hands. We have our hearts, our minds, our memories and knowledge – all the knowledge we gained as a race over the millenia of our existence is still available to us. And most important, we have each other, and we have our will to live.

"We're going to survive, and we're going to thrive, and together, we're going to rebuild Gallifrey."


	8. New Beginnings

**New Beginnings**

Romana listened for a few seconds as her pronunciation of her goal: to survive, thrive, and rebuild Gallifrey, swept through the crowd surrounding her, then immediately began to press her luck. She knew she had only seconds to capitalize on the momentum she'd just gained and keep the group of refugees together, before they splintered into bickering factions. Decades of experience handling the ossified Councillors had taught her that – and come to think of it, most of those around her looked like exactly that – the Councillors. Not exactly the most congenial group to begin with – nor the hardiest.

"All right!" She didn't shout, but pitched her voice as loud and penetrating as she could while keeping it below that level. "First order of business is basic survival. We need water, food, and shelter, and we need it quickly, before night falls. We're on the Citadel Plateau. Who here has the memory of this area's natural condition?"

A city engineer stepped forward at once, offering the location of the springs which had supplied the Citadel with water for living memory. "At the base of the Nine Lords, Lady – and we're likely to find the best shelter at their base, as well. The winds come up as night falls, but from beyond that ridge, so the boulders below the peak will shelter us from them."

"Excellent. Food? Who can tell me what foods grew here naturally?"

"Not many, Lady," came a reply from the other side. "All our most basic foodstuffs, aside from being grown in regions far from the Citadel, were heavily modified during domestication, thousands of years ago. If we find anything, it will be primitive, small, and not very tasty."

"I'm well aware of that. It can't be helped. What _will_ we find here?"

The naturalist stepped away from his neighbors for a better view of the surroundings. After a few seconds thought, he nodded decisively. "I can think of a few things. With your permission, Lady, I'll gather a team and collect what we can."

"Do it." Romana was grateful for his taking charge of that area. He turned and made his way through the crowd towards a nearby hill, tapping people on the shoulder as he went.

Romana turned back towards the engineer. "Take several others and scout out those springs. Find a way to mark them, then station one of your people at each one." He nodded and turned away.

"Fires would be good," Tis'hania murmured at her shoulder, then gave a rueful grimace when Romana merely arched her eyebrows at her. "Right. Firewood." She turned and began to follow the naturalist, gathering a couple dozen followers on her way towards the distant clumps of brush – no trees were to be had on the plateau, unfortunately.

"That leaves shelter for the rest of us. Let's go see what we have to work with," Romana told the remaining crowd, and they began to move slowly off towards the rock pillars called the Nine Lords lining the ridge half a mile away.

She managed to keep everyone more-or-less busy over the next few hours gathering food, making fires, moving rocks and piling them into a pair of makeshift walls to keep off the wind. A good many in the crowd had trans-dimensional pockets in their clothing, and although she suspected the Doctor could have generated an even larger pile from his pockets alone, they did come up with a number of useful gadgets, including a few firestarters and pocket knives.

The naturalist, Timmony, had managed to scrape up enough edible roots and leaves to feed everyone, although his prediction about the quality of that food was unquestionably true. The paucity of the results was also giving Romana a tremendous concern, although he had been able to relieve her mind on one thing: there were no natural predators in these heights. Cross one worry off her list – for now.

Hunger somewhat sated, everyone began drifting together again as if by plan, and Romana realized that a mass council was inevitable – for reassurance as much as a concrete plan. She sighed, and bit the bullet, standing up and striding to the middle of the area between the fires. The muttering instantly fell away to silence, and all eyes converged on her.

"First of all, Timmony, we all owe you our thanks for this delicious repast. Nourishing, if a little scarce on the salt. Do let the cook know, won't you?" It took a few extra beats, but finally some nervous titters swept through the crowd at her attempt at humor. She looked around again. "Can someone tell me how cold it's likely to get tonight?"

Timmony stood again. "As far as I can tell from the plants and the ground, Lady, it appears to be mid spring. I don't think it's going to drop as far as freezing, but it might not be very far above it. Lady..."

She saw his hesitation, and realized he didn't know if he should speak plainly in front of everyone else. "Let's hear it, Timmony. Don't spare the truth, even if it's harsh."

He nodded, and a determined look crossed his face. "Lady, we can't stay here on the plateau. We just about ate all there is in one meal, and those springs aren't as big as the ones in our universe were – I'm guessing those had been enlarged and supplemented somehow?" He looked to the engineer, who nodded agreement. Timmony turned back, and spoke the simple truth. "We stay here, we'll starve, in short order. We need to be heading west, towards the coast. One of the richest agricultural areas on the old Gallifrey was due west of the Citadel, in the coastal valleys near Crystal Bay. We'll find food there – all the ancestors of the plants and animals our own ancestors domesticated millennia ago. But we won't find them here."

"How far is it?" she asked simply.

He took a deep breath. "About two hundred miles." A shocked murmur began sweeping through the onlookers, and a ghost of a wry smile crossed his face as he added, "At least it's all downhill. Literally. The old Royal Road followed Shevia Valley all the way to Crystal Bay without a single bump or twist." He shrugged an apology and sat down again.

Before Romana could draw breath to speak, another rather... august personage lumbered to his feet in outrage. "You expect us to _walk_ all the way to Crystal Bay? For _two hundred miles?_" Romana rather suspected he hadn't walked more than two hundred steps in a day for the past two hundred years. She let the accompanying noise carry on a bit, to let them get it out of their system, while she studied the personage for a moment and finally placed him. Then she held up her hand for silence, and got it.

"You heard Timmony, Kaphir. We've already eaten almost every bit of edible food to be had on this plateau, in just one sitting. It doesn't appear as if we have any choice in the matter. If we want to eat, we _must_ move to where the food is. _All_ of us."

Kaphir drew himself back up to his most impressive middle height. "And when, may I ask, _Lady_ Romana, was the election that returned you to the Presidency?"

_Nice touch,_ Romana thought irrelevantly, _using my title, to emphasize that I hadn't used his._ She hadn't even realized she'd dropped all titles, even mentally, till that moment. _Somehow they just don't seem to sound right here in the wilderness._ And right then and there she made the snap decision to never use any again.

Judging from the crowd's reactions, she realized Kaphir didn't have as much support as he was evidently counting on – though he did have some. She decided to nip it in the bud, and gave him her sweetest, most gracious smile.

"Why, I do believe you're correct, Kaphir. Please forgive my presumptuousness. Leadership has always been decided by vote, and this is no time to drop that precedent. First, we need an impartial election judge – any volunteers?" A young man climbed to his feet from a few ranks back and raised his hand, and when Romana got no objections, she gratefully turned the floor over to him. He opened the floor to nominations and volunteers, and was nearly drowned out with calls of "Lady Romana!" Grinning, he waved them all down, and went on to collect those of Kaphir and another volunteer from near the back. A quick voice vote on the three showed how vastly outnumbered Kaphir's support was – and the third got only three votes, one of which was of course his own.

Thus officially returned to office, Romana stood up again and got down to business. "Friends, I realize we've made some rather hasty conclusions, based on insufficient evidence, but I think that in each case, we've done the best we could. One, we seem to be in an alternate universe, on another Gallifrey, rather than on our own in a different time period. In either case, however, I don't think help is on its way – and we're much better off not counting on it, but relying only on ourselves for our survival. And make no mistake, regardless of the truth of our location, our survival, both individually and collectively, is definitely at stake."

She paused for a moment to let that sink in. "Now, I realize that the trip we're undertaking is no light journey, but will be a long, hard slog for all of us. We're going to take it as easy as we can, while still making progress, but it's a journey we _must_ take, if we _are_ going to survive. Not only is food an issue, but have any of you ever set foot outside the Citadel in the middle of winter? There's a reason our ancestors built that dome. I, for one, have no desire to try to make it through the winter up here without it. Do any of you?"

She waited again and let that reminder do her work of convincing the reluctant travelers. "As Timmony reminded us, the Sunset Hills around Crystal Bay had some of the richest, most productive soil on all of Gallifrey. We couldn't pick a better spot to colonize if we had flitters. And since we _know_ what the final species were, our job of re-domesticating all our favorite plants and animals will be that much easier than those who did it blind the first time."

She paused again, and switched gears. "I accept the leadership you voted me into, but I don't think 'Presidency' is quite the right word for it – a little too grandiose for our present circumstances, don't you think? We'll come up with an appropriate title along the way – if you have any suggestions, please let me know. And another thing – we're far too few in number to need the bureaucracy of a Council – at least for now. As the need arises, we can vote another one in, but for the time being, we are all equals here on New Gallifrey." With those few words, she swept away millennia of tradition; just as every other iota of their former life had been swept away in an eyeblink by stepping through the crack.

Realizing she'd talked enough for one night, Romana ended her first day in office with a simple directive. "We set out in the morning. Try to get some rest as best you can, even sleep if you can. It's going to be a long walk."


	9. Setting Out

**Setting Out**

The following morning dealt the reluctant colonists their next serious blow, as word swept through the crowd that one of the citizens who had been outside the Council Chamber during the Dalek attack had died during the night of his wounds, without regenerating.

"What does this mean?" Romana asked the healer Dashok sharply, echoing the question on everyone's lips. "Can we no longer regenerate at all? Have we lost that ability?"

"Apparently so, Lady. I was with him until the end. He tried to enter the regen cycle repeatedly, but to no avail; no vortex particles responded. Since we have no TARDISes, no vortexes of any kind, there is no source for them, and whatever particles we brought across within ourselves were insufficient in this case, at least. I can make no promises either way for anyone else."

Romana, along with everyone else in earshot, was rocked. What other changes were in store for the erstwhile Lords of Time?

She slowly drew herself up to her feet again, breathing heavily, forcing calm, and looked around at the shock mirrored on the faces nearby. "Well," she began slowly. "This is going to take some time to absorb. In the meantime..." Noticing no-one directly beside the deceased, she asked Dashok, "He had no relatives here?" When he shook his head, she sighed, and then pitched her voice for the crowd again. "Forgive me, my people, I know this is harsh. But we cannot linger here. Our brother must be mourned without benefit of the full ceremony."

Quietly, then, she instructed four nearby men to take the body and place it under the lee of the closest of the rock walls hastily constructed the day before, and then topple it over him. When that was done, she spoke the ritual words of farewell over his makeshift tomb, then solemnly turned and began to walk resolutely towards the western lip of the plateau. She didn't look back, but her ultra-sharp hearing told her the rest of the refugees were passing by the grave in silence before following her lead.

A few hundred steps later, she glanced to her left and found Timmony, the naturalist, had come up beside her, and was silently pointing a slight adjustment to her path, to edge them nearer the rounded hill slightly north of due west. She nodded and shifted, then glanced back again with a small smile. "Can you guide us the entire route?"

She was relieved when he immediately nodded back. "I believe so, Lady. I was reviewing it mentally during the night. It's a fairly straight shot, with only a few small turns along the way."

"Good. I need you to take on another related function, as well." She turned and glanced back, seeing the refugees already strung out in a long line. "We'll inevitably sort ourselves out as we go, with those in better physical shape gaining ground on the others. Wait an hour or so, then take the group in the lead up ahead with you at a faster pace to scout the way. Find a good, sheltered spot for us to stop for the night, hopefully with water available, and then begin gathering firewood and food. Hopefully you'll begin finding enough for two meals: an evening meal when we stop, and another in the morning before we set out."

Timmony nodded again. "At least we can be assured that job will become easier the further west we go. How far do you think we can go in a day?"

She grimaced. "Nowhere near as far as we should. Let's plan on just a few miles today. How far is it to the bottom of the first valley?"

"There's a fairly steep slope down into the head of Shevia Valley – we're about to come to the top of it. If I recall correctly, there was a small side canyon just a few miles away from the lip that would be a good place to stop and shelter."

"Good. Aim for that with your team, then, and get a campsite prepared."

"Yes, Lady!" Tossing her a salute, he began lengthening his stride to pull ahead.

"Lady, may I make a suggestion?" came from behind. Romana turned to see another woman walking swiftly up to catch her, and she nodded, "Of course."

"Don't let all the fast ones pull ahead and leave the slow ones behind. Pair them off and have them help each other. We must all arrive together, or not at all."

"Good thinking." Deliberately slowing her own pace, Romana began alternating, sending every other able-bodied walker back towards the rear, while letting the rest go ahead to catch Timmony. When she found herself at the head of the obviously slower-walking group, she sped up again to stay at their vanguard, glancing behind every few minutes to make sure no-one was straggling too far behind. The last third of the group were walking in obvious pairs, as each of the elderly or infirm found an escort.

"It's good to see us working together again," Tis'hania commented at her shoulder. "I've been on the Council for so long, where we seemed to be ever at each other's throats. I wouldn't have wagered some of us could remember how to cooperate after all this time."

Romana grinned back at the older woman. "Existential crises do have a way of focusing the attention, don't they?" she asked drolly.

^..^

By the time they reached the side canyon, even Romana's feet and calves were sore, but at last everyone hobbled up under the trees crowding the canyon's entrance. The latecomers were guided first to a large spring and handed a makeshift "cup" made from a gently-folded cannis leaf (Romana was pleasantly amused at herself for remembering the name of the oversize foliage) to quench their thirst, then to a group of fires already cheerfully crackling, with mounds of the same edible roots and leaves they had eaten the night before.

"Enough for a morning meal, as well, Lady!" Timmony proclaimed proudly.

She smiled back gratefully. "You've done well, Timmony. You're hired!" And he laughed and wandered away in search of his own spot, then Dashok stepped up to take his place.

"Lady, a word with you?" She nodded and he sank down next to her.

Tis'hania spoke up from a pace away. "I think that's your answer, Romana." At the puzzled return glance, she indicated the healer. "They've dropped the 'President', as you requested. But you're the only one being called Lady – or Lord – any more. I think that's your new title."

Romana considered. "I can think of worse. So be it." She turned back to Dashok and gestured him to go ahead. When he glanced fleetingly at Tis'hania, the only one close enough to hear if they spoke quietly, she nodded again, indicating her trust in her companion.

"I am... concerned about something," he began. "To speak bluntly, Lady, if we are to create a viable colony and eventually repopulate this world, especially if we can no longer regenerate, then we must not only survive, we must reproduce. And since the looms we've come to rely on these past centuries are back in the other universe, forever beyond our reach, that means we have to do it naturally, by bearing and raising children."

Romana's eyebrows had risen to nearly her hairline. "Can we even do so any more?"

"Some have, Lady, even in recent years." He gestured towards Tis'hania. "Not all of us abandoned our biology back on our other world. I've even managed to help deliver a baby or two – though it's been a while, I admit."

"Was there any truth to the old story of a curse?"

"Not that I know of. Looming was adopted over the centuries as an easier means to the end of reproduction, for those who didn't want to go the natural route, and slowly became the primary method. But unless we evolved out of it – and there was no selection pressure that I know of to do so – most of us here should still be capable of it." He paused, then gave her a grim smile. "We'd better be, at any rate."

Romana took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. "That... is a _huge_ proposition."

"But necessary." He took his own deep breath, then plunged ahead. "And there's more, Lady. In order to maximize our survival at a species level, we need to do everything we can to preserve and pass on the genetic code of every individual here. We must make our gene pool as wide and varied as we can, given this bottleneck we face."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we must set the standard for every woman to bear several children... and to different fathers." He held up a hand to stay both women's startled reactions. "I know. It goes against all our traditions and taboos. But it's _vital_ to our long-term survival. We can't just pass along the genes of those men lucky enough to find mates. We need to pass along those of _every _male, and mix them up to the greatest extent we can, as well."

Romana stared. "And how can we do that? It's against everything we believe about fidelity and bonding."

"I know, I know. But we must. Somehow we must make 'cheating' the norm – the _expected_ norm, rather than the shameful aberration it is now." He grimaced. "First of all, we'd better start calling it something other than the word 'cheating'."

Romana shook her head emphatically. "I just can't imagine any of us taking it that calmly."

"Well..." Tis'hania began thoughtfully. "I think it's safe to assume that every aspect of our lives is going to become a group endeavor, from gathering or growing food, to everything else we'll be doing. I can't see the rearing of children being any different. What I mean to say is, I don't think we'll be seeing autonomous family units any time soon. With everyone of all ages mixing constantly together, and everyone taking care of whichever child happens to be closest, the exact parentage of each will become just a bit less important, won't it?"

"Are you proposing group marriages, too?"

"No, I don't think our method of bonding will stretch that far – but it might. No, I'm speaking of other aspects of our social lives." She sighed. "Our very concepts of bonding and fidelity will have to change, along with everything else."

The trio fell silent for a while, considering. Then Romana turned to Dashok again. "Have you spoken of this to anyone else?" He shook his head, and she sighed. "I don't think most of them can deal with this right away – this is simply too radical a change, on top of all the other radical changes we're facing at the moment. Let's keep this between us until we get to Crystal Bay."

Dashok nodded and rose to his feet, leaving the two women to their thoughts. After a beat, Romana caught Tis'hania's eyes again. "I knew the Doctor was your son, of course, but for some reason, it never dawned on me that he was natural-born. You're the only woman I can think of at all that I knew went through that. What was it like?"

Tis'hania's eyes went unfocused, and a tiny, painful smile crossed her lips as she recalled those long-ago days. "Difficult. It wasn't easy, for many reasons – the social ones most of all, even though we were living mostly apart from society. It was quite a scandal, in fact. But even physically, it was difficult. I..." She looked straight back at her companion again, and forced herself to say the next words. "It was the most wonderful, meaningful thing I've ever done. I wouldn't undo it for anything. But I must tell you, Romana... it was also dangerous. I became pregnant again a few years later, but that time... I lost the baby. And I almost died. I never tried again after that."

Romana was shocked. "You almost died? Then... I forbid you to try again now. You mustn't. I won't lose you!" The sudden, fierce feeling of protectiveness for this woman she hardly knew, even though they'd been acquainted for decades, surprised even herself.

Tis'hania gave her another small, wistful smile, then reached over and squeezed the younger woman's hand. Then she turned back to her meal, closing the subject. Romana stared at her a moment longer before she did the same, trying to ignore the vague feeling of unease that hung over her shoulders. _We've got enough to worry about right now without borrowing more trouble._ Suddenly restless, she put her small pile of leaves aside for later and got to her feet, ignoring those appendages' protests, and began making her rounds of the campfires, making sure everyone had been fed and watered, letting herself be seen and heard. By the time she returned, her companion was asleep, curled up on her side, head resting on her arms. Romana lay down behind her for warmth, backs touching, and fell almost instantly into the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.


	10. Hope Reborn

**Hope Reborn**

A few days later saw the long caravan of New Gallifreyans at last emerging from the mountains proper into the foothills. By staying on the northern bank of the Shevia River, Timmony had kept them on the path of the old Royal Road that made (almost) straight for Crystal Bay, their agreed destination. As they had descended from the Citadel Plateau, the days, and especially the nights, became warmer, which cheered all of them enormously, as well as did the steadily-easing terrain.

They'd settled into the pattern of the first day, with Timmony and his band ranging ahead in search of food and a campsite for the night, while the rest stayed more-or-less together, with the younger, fitter companions assisting their elders wherever needed. Said elders seemed to gain strength with each passing day, however; whether from the exercise or the changing terrain or both, nobody cared to inquire.

The youngest of them all, a former Academy student barely into his second century, made himself an instant hero when he came across a colony of small, furry rockrats identical to those in their former planet, and he felled half a dozen with a slingshot nobody even knew he had before they could blink. That night he was kept busy showing a number of others how to fashion and use their own slingshots, and the next few days saw the welcome addition of meat to their diet – the automatic, if unspoken, competition between the new hunters caused their accuracy to increase at dramatic rates.

The second day into the foothills, Romana stood and stretched, signaling the end of the midmorning rest break, and the rest of the main group began rousing as well. Watching them gather themselves up with the accompanying grumbles – though they were _much_ fewer and softer than before – she smiled to herself. As she turned to face west again, though, she caught sight of Tis'hania standing alone on the knob above their resting place, facing away to the south.

She waved the others on, and climbed up the slope to stand beside her friend. On reaching her side, she was startled to see tears on the older woman's cheeks, and she touched her shoulder, concerned. "Tis'hania?"

Tis'hania motioned towards the nearby peak. "Mount Taveris." A pause. "My home was just there, on that shoulder, where that grove of trees stands. You'd be able to see it from here." Another pause, pregnant with memory. "The house was all grown over with gariolis vines. I wonder if those trees are covered with them?"

Romana slipped her arm around the woman's shoulders and gave them a silent squeeze. Tis'hania turned finally and gave her a small, sad smile. "My son was born in that house," she said quietly. "The happiest years of my life were the century between his birth and his father's disappearance." There was nothing Romana could say. Tis'hania gave the distant ridge a long, long last look, and added wistfully, "Some day I should like to climb up there again." Then she sighed heavily, and turned away, letting Romana lead her back down towards the group.

"What was he like when he was young? The Doctor?" Romana asked her, not quite changing the subject. She'd always been curious.

"Oh, he was a _handful_, no question. Sometimes I'm amazed he made it to adulthood."

Romana grinned at her wistful, wry expression. "Tell me."

Tis'hania grinned back. "Oh, I think his character can be summed up in the first name he chose at the Academy. Do you know what that was?"

"No. What?"

She smiled even more broadly, drawing it out. "Hey You."

Romana stopped dead, spluttering laughter. "No! He chose _what?_"

Laughter bubbling out freely now, Tis'hania shook her head ruefully. "Datherion – his father – was _livid_ when he heard. If my son hadn't been off-world on a class trip, I was certain he wouldn't have lived past sundown. I didn't dare tell him that I suspected the boy had done it on purpose for that very reason."

"I take it they didn't get along very well?"

"Ah, no. Oh, they loved each other, that was never in doubt. But understanding? Peaceful coexistence? No. They were both too fiery for that. But even so... even with the two most important men in my life constantly at odds with each other, it was still the happiest time I've ever known."

A pause, and then Romana asked delicately, "You never took another mate?"

"No. There was no point." And that was that. She turned it back on the other woman. "You've never bonded with anyone, have you, Romana?"

"No." She sighed. "I suppose I'll have to now, though, won't I? Not very good pickings, though."

But Tis'hania shook her head emphatically. "Life bondings have never been matters of convenience or politics among our people, and I see no reason why they should start doing so now. Besides, if we women are to have children by several different men, I should think bonding might hinder that, rather than help." She suddenly asked, "How many bonded pairs do we have, do you know?"

Romana shrugged. "I don't know. Not many, I don't think. A bare handful, if that."

"I'm not aware of anyone in deep mourning, so no-one must have left a bondmate behind, either." She sighed. "We of the Council were – what was that word you used once? Ossified? Yes, a sorry bunch of ossified old fools. Not very good candidates for starting a new colony from scratch. But... here we are. We'll do our best." She glanced around at the group of travelers pacing along. "We're already adjusting, I think. We do have our pragmatic streak. We might be all right in the end, at that."

"If we fail, it certainly won't be for lack of trying, that's certain," Romana agreed.

Tis'hania nodded, then smiled at the man who had silently stepped up to pace alongside the two women: Presonne. The only other Councillor who had voted against Rassilon's plan, he had been the other 'weeping angel' on the dais.

Romana had been puzzled, back at the start of the march, by the subtle ostracism those two were receiving from many of their fellow Councillors – until Tis'hania quietly told her the backstory of the happenings in the rock-lined Chamber at the close of the War. Coldly furious for the rest of that day, Romana stood at the nightly campfire and, calling up every ounce of her legendary eloquence, delivered a scathing sermon on the necessity of leaving _every single_ quarrel and feud from Old Gallifrey behind on that planet's ash-filled surface.

Then she picked up the two long sticks she'd carried all that day and held them aloft, showing that their tips had been whittled into spear points. Suddenly plunging the spears into the dirt at her feet, she announced that anyone with _any_ past grievance against anyone else present, no matter how large or small, was hereby bound to take it up with her, Romana, instead – in hand-to-hand combat. She held her arms stiffly out behind her in ready stance as she slowly turned to glare at each individual onlooker gaping back in shock at the ancient, anachronistic – and deadly – challenge.

Utter silence reigned for ten long minutes.

Finally, satisfied that she had no takers, she pulled the spears out and tossed them onto the flames, declaring that all grievances from Old Gallifrey were thereby settled, and that anyone who took one up again by any means in the future would find themselves banished forthwith. A gasp went up at the severity of that punishment, but no-one had the gall to challenge it.

Tensions didn't evaporate overnight, but slowly, over the subsequent days, it drained away, and by the end of the march the past would be buried, and all would work more-or-less willingly aside all others.

^..^

It took eighteen days, all told, for the new colonists to reach their destination, including a half day spent backtracking up a large side tributary into the Shevia River to find a ford. But at last, the two-hundred-odd weary travelers stood along the low cliffs overlooking Crystal Bay. Someone began an ancient song of joy and homecoming, and her neighbors took it up, and their neighbors, until it spread along the entire line, and each one sang it from their twin hearts.

Then Romana, near the northern end of the line, turned and began walking towards something she'd not seen in decades, a huge old 'great-grandfather' corin tree, soaring towards the sky a hundred yards or so back from the cliff face, in a small depression scooped from the surrounding plain. She paused in shock as she stumbled over what looked like the remains of an ancient campfire, a few feet outside the corin's sweep. _Could that have been made by an intelligent creature?_ Looking more closely at the scattered rocks and charred log, which may or may not have once been in a circle, she realized that even if it had been – and there was no way of knowing for certain – it had been so long ago as to not be worth discussing. But she filed it away in her memory to think about later on.

She walked on to the corin with her hands out from her sides, almost in supplication, the long trailing vines whispering over her upturned palms as she slipped through the curtain. She stood unmoving underneath the canopy, gazing reverentially up into the crown, never knowing she was echoing the Doctor's attitude seventeen years before in that exact same spot. Finally she turned again, and found the rest of the company was drifting up to form a loose semicircle just outside the tree's reach, as if answering the call to a Council Gathering in the far, far distant ancient times of Gallifrey. When they had all gathered, and were silently watching her inside the curtain, she smiled.

"This is the place. Here under this grandfather tree, the symbol of sanctuary and steadfastness for time out of mind. This is where we will build our new home, and begin again."

^..^

The remaining hours of that first day were crammed with a flurry of activity, as the colonists gathered the ancient wild foods for an impromptu feast of thanksgiving, and conjured ways of preparing them and cooking what couldn't be eaten raw out of thin air. Tassies and toepinchers were gathered from the blue sands at the base of the cliffs, and a group of New Gallifreyans waded out into the shallows and formed a living net, slowly converging and trapping fish with their own bodies before scooping them out with bare hands and tossing them to those waiting on shore, to be cleaned and spitted over the fires being lit along the cliffs above. A succulent collection of the roots and leaves they'd already been subsisting on was found, and supplemented with several kinds of sweet berries, and the nearby colony of rockrats saw the first forays into their number. Finally, as a special treat, Romana authorized a few athletic individuals to climb up into the sacred corins (there were a few smaller specimens scattered on the plain next to the cliffs, none half as large as their newly dubbed Council Tree) and come down with handfuls of sproutlings to peel and savor.

Finally, sated and content after their days on the march, the refugees began slowly converging on the largest, central fire where Romana had been sitting. When she grinned and took her feet, they silenced at once to listen, and she started in without any introduction at all, abandoning the formal, flowery language she'd been accustomed to using in the Council Chamber for plain, direct speech that flowed smoothly across the wild plain.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel _much_ better. I'm full of hope, and confidence, that we can and will survive and thrive, and go on to populate this world the way it should be.

"During the long march to this spot, I spoke with every one of you, and now have a much better idea of what we have to work with in the way of skills and knowledge. And the answer is a _lot_. Yes, we are each leaving a huge pile of useless knowledge behind in the world now gone, but underneath that we are _swimming _with talents and ideas that can and will be put to direct use.

"For instance, we have not one but two potters, who – after we're able to build a kiln – will be working those clay deposits down the coast into good plates and cups – no more eating from leaves, or with our bare hands. Several of us have knowledge of metalworking, and will be making pots, knives, and tableware their first priority out of the deposits in the cliffs. We also have a few people familiar with weaving baskets from the reeds growing alongside the river. We have a dozen engineers who can help us build sturdy, weatherproof houses from the materials we now have to work with, not to mention sanitation and water supplies. And firepits and ovens, too. They won't be the multi-room mansions we're used to, with fancy tile floors and tapestries on the walls, but they'll be warm and dry – and they'll be up before the winter.

"We have a number of fishermen who are already thinking about nets and hooks and fish traps, even small boats, to catch the endless, untouched bounty in the bay. And huge flocks of seabirds are right here in these cliffs – all it will take is some eggs stolen from their nests and a primitive pen to begin keeping egg-and-meat flocks. I'm looking forward to a fresh omelet tomorrow morning!

"For our larger animals: you all saw the varigoats in the hills; Malisarabon tells me they were changed very little when domesticated, and already have the long silky fur we prized them for. She will be taking a group into the hills soon to capture all the young varigoats they can find and bring them back to pens; by the winter we'll be weaving soft, warm cloaks. The wild cattle we saw in the far foothills were modified to a far greater degree during domestication – but we can still get good results even from the initial phases. We might leave that project until next year, though, when we can capture some newborn calves to start taming.

"The plains around us, stretching all the way into the hills, are _full_ of fantir grain – already half the size of that on the other world. We can harvest barrels of it wild until we're able to break ground and begin farming it, selectively breeding the larger grains. Smaller gardens for the roots and leaves we've already been enjoying we'll go ahead and begin in the coming weeks, transplanting from the wild if need be. As of tomorrow, everyone must save every seed they come across. I see a bountiful harvest and a joyous festival before the first snows fall this winter!"

Someone let out a cheer at that, and it was taken up by all. Romana let them go on a bit before holding her hands up for silence. "Tomorrow the serious work begins. We'll divide up into teams and tackle each project according to our own interests. But everyone must take a hand in helping build their own shelter, however many live in each house. I rather think we'll begin with large group homes, and then smaller ones as time goes on – but it's up to each one of you. We will do some initial urban planning, however, so we don't end up with an unsightly maze or sanitation problems.

"Now... are there any questions or problems?"

A younger woman sitting near the front stood and faced Romana squarely. "Lady, you haven't mentioned one thing. Ourselves. If we are to populate this world, if we're even to survive as a colony, we must begin bearing children, mustn't we?"

Romana took her time answering, listening as hard as she could to the murmurs that swept through the crowd. Apparently, although she hadn't mentioned it, nor (she was sure) had the healer Dashok, the highly intelligent Gallifreyans had figured it out for themselves. "Yes, we will. Every one of us women bears the responsibility for continuing our species, if we're able to do so."

The woman nodded as if she had expected exactly that, and sat down again, but another rose to take her place, bringing up the problem of the genetic bottleneck. A third answered her with the obvious solution Dashok himself had given Romana, that the fertile women must try to ensure that each man's genes were added to the group's mix, in the only possible way. Romana stayed silent, allowing them all to talk it out. There were some holdouts, many simply uncomfortable with the idea, but in the end, almost all of the colonists accepted the inevitability of it.

Romana had never been more proud of her people. Many times over the centuries she'd felt (along with a great many others) that the Time Lords of Gallifrey had outlived their own common sense, but here in this crucible, their long-dormant pragmatism and willingness to do what was necessary would be their saving grace.

Finally the talk began to wind down, and she stood again, gathering their attention. "We're all now aware of that issue, and the answer. Putting it into practice will be the long project of all the years to come. I think we can table discussion for now.

There is one final item I want to bring up, and that is the issue of the name of our settlement. As you all know, the town built on these cliffs on our old world was also named Crystal Bay, but I don't want to duplicate that. I want a name that means something, that will inspire all of us. And I have a suggestion."

She paused a moment, then spoke a single short word. Silence reigned for several long moments as the citizens of New Gallifrey considered it, then a chorus of Aye's began pelting her from each side, until it was obvious her suggestion had carried the day, and a broad smile split her face as once again she signaled for quiet.

"So be it. Here, then, on this first evening in our new capital, on our new world, I name our town for that quiet yet most inspiring emotion, which keeps us going in the darkest night of despair.

I name our town... Hope."


	11. Rebuilding

**Rebuilding**

True to form, Romana led by example, and became the first of the New Gallifreyan women to become pregnant, asking the naturalist Timmony to "assist her with a little project" (which he was happy to do) – although she only beat two other women by a week or two. Slowly, a few other similar announcements were made around the nightly fires, but nowhere near as many as they had expected – until the simple reason dawned on them: for the last few centuries, Gallifreyan women routinely had permanent birth control devices implanted surgically as soon as they hit adulthood. It had become so much a non-issue that none of them even remembered it until several months had passed. The few who did conceive had all skipped the implant on various medical grounds (or, in Romana's case, historical), or possibly a few of the devices failed for some reason.

Of course, the device could easily be removed and full fertility restored in just a few relatively painless minutes – in any minimally-equipped sterile medical clinic back on the original Gallifrey. Unfortunately, even that minimal equipment and sterility was as far out of healer Dashok's reach as the twin suns hanging above them. "For now!" he replied with grim determination, and set himself the monumental task of rediscovering ancient and primitive medicine, including plant- or animal-based pain relievers and antibiotics and anesthesia and all the rest of the rainbow of natural pharmacopeia. He worried incessantly about devising some method of blood transfusion for the inevitable need – luckily, Gallifreyans had only a single blood 'type', rendering the need he might have otherwise faced for finding a method of differentiating among them moot. Anyone – barring carriers of a small handful of well-known diseases – could pretty much donate blood to anyone. One thing he didn't worry about yet was small surgical instruments; he figured by the time he was ready to need them, the infant metalworks below the cliff would have developed far enough to supply at least a crude version. Sterilization would perforce be done by the old fashioned method of boiling everything in water – as soon as the metalworks began cranking out those promised pots.

He also needed to rediscover everything he could about pregnancy and childbirth. It had quickly been determined that Tis'hania was indeed the only woman present who had ever borne a child naturally, and the two of them spent many long hours together dredging every bit of data and even supposition they could from their prodigious memories. Not for the last time was the group to rely on the memory-enhancement tools their ancient forebears had developed.

Thus it was that the colony headed into their first winter with a certain amount of trepidation added to the fierce determination to survive – Romana and the other women would be giving birth sometime during the dark months between midwinter and the arrival of spring. Their harvest that fall hadn't been quite as bounteous as Romana had envisioned, and food preservation was another ancient skill they needed to rediscover. The gardens had been dug, but as they had no seeds that first year to plant, and the specimens they'd carefully transplanted from the wild invariably withered, they had to rely solely on whatever they could gather from the fields and forests. (Without fail, though, everyone religiously saved every single seed they found for the next year, and the following spring the gardens began to come into their own. Gallifreyan plants, like Gallifreyan people, simply do not like to be moved against their will once they have found their place and begun to grow.)

Their greatest successes were the bounty from the sea and the piles of wild grain they painstakingly harvested from the vast fields surrounding them – scythes were among the first tools produced by the infant metalworks, and two large, smooth boulders with erosion-created craters soon had their small daily contingent of workers steadily grinding away making coarse flour. Great wooden racks sprouted all along the cliffs that fall to smoke and dry the fish caught in the primitive nets woven from long seaweed and corin vines. Mounds of root vegetables dug from the fields and forests were either buried in carefully-constructed, straw-lined vaults or dried in the sun into leathery stew ingredients. The sweet berries, especially, were thus dried and put away for midwinter treats – those that made it safely past the gatherers' greedy mouths, anyway. The primitive baskets woven from river reeds were in such high demand to hold all the harvest that almost everyone tried their hand at it, and soon each could boast of a dozen or more of every size. Then someone remembered having seen woven mats used for flooring and room dividers on some other planet, and they went back to work again – moving into the marsh a few miles south for a seemingly endless supply of reeds.

Seabirds and rockrats alike were caught and put into pens and cages for raising captive meat and seabird eggs. A few varigoats had indeed been caught, but nowhere near enough to produce sufficient wool or meat to make harvesting them worth the effort. That would be a long-term project. (Another project that they eventually gave up on completely was taming the wild cattle. Although they sent out teams several times the first few years, none of the fierce, wily – and fast – beasts were ever captured from any method tried. The simple fact was that the slower Gallifreyans were on foot; the chuveries their distant ancestors had domesticated for riding originally evolved on the continent on the opposite side of the world, as far out of their current reach as the aforementioned suns.)

Several hunters, though, worked through the summer to rediscover the bow and arrow, and in the fall were able to bring down a handful of young cattle and some other largish game animals. Some of their catch was cut into strips and dried into jerky, while several were roasted whole in huge charcoal pits for the harvest feast. The hides were as valuable as the meat, though, and several people snatched them off and immediately began the laborious process of turning hide into leather; first curing them with salt boiled from the seawater, then stretching them over frames and scraping, scraping, scraping.

Every able-bodied individual was also rotated through the daily firewood team, hiking up into the forests blanketing the nearby slopes and dragging fallen wood down to the village with corin-vine ropes. One of the first tools produced by the metalworks was a handful of axeheads, which only made the process easier. Even with the prodigious amounts of wood burned through the fall for smoking fish, etc., they had a small mountain of firewood ready for the winter cold.

A number of different methods of constructing houses were discussed and attempted, including rock walls, stacked sod, wooden logs, mud bricks, and mud-covered straw bales. None of them stood out as a great deal easier, faster, or more successful than any of the others, so in the end each building was a combination of all of them as individual preference and expediency dictated. The one common feature became the sod-over-wooden-rafter roofs, and the inevitable wildflowers growing on each roof gave the town a constant colorful, festive air in the coming summers.

As Romana had predicted, the first few buildings were large communal living quarters, clustered together a bit south of the corin. Over the next few years smaller individual houses began to rise on the chosen town site. Romana did insist on minimal "urban planning", so the town was laid out in the ancient "ring of rings" pattern, each group of twelve to fourteen houses facing inward toward a common garden, small animal pens, firepit and earthen oven; with low rock walls connecting each house and enclosing the common. And invariably, in the center of each common, a low rock wall sheltered a corin sproutling, planted in a High Beginning ceremony along with laying the four cornerstones of each house. (Indoor plumbing of both types was obviously many years away, but careful attention was paid to the placement of the dug latrines, and common-sense limits placed on usage of the water from the brook running through the center of town.) The twelve rings were themselves laid in two concentric arcs around the land side of the great-grandfather corin, redubbed the Council Tree, and rows of sitting stones, benches, and small firepits were slowly added around its perimeter to form the permanent gathering place for the entire population.

On the original Gallifrey, winters around Crystal Bay were known to be mild – "mild" being relative, of course. They knew they could expect freezing temperatures overnight for several months, and a number of winter storms with snowfall – though that snow wasn't expected to stick around for more than a few days each time. Still, it would be a long few months before they could begin gathering much food from the wild again, or start planting seeds. Their stock of food supplies looked awfully small at times as the temperatures began to drop. They all knew they'd done the best they could, but that wouldn't feed empty bellies if food ran out or another disaster struck.

One other social change slowly evolved unnoticed. The Time Lords had long ago developed tight mental shields to keep out both direct psychic intrusions and the overwhelming hum of background "noise" from the millions of their fellow telepathic citizens. When that hum was swiftly diminished as those millions were killed under the final Dalek onslaught, and then wiped away completely in the single step from one world to another, the remaining colonists first had trouble even recognizing the silence, let alone adjusting to it. Gradually, though, they rebuilt a new network, and began using telepathy for far more casual communication than they had been accustomed to. Due to the nature of their telepathy, true verbal word-for-word conversations were much less common than a more vague transference of meaning and feeling, and usually occurred only between bonded pairs. That vague transference, though, came to be the constant, normal background of their daily lives and thoughts, sampled and experienced with as much conscious thought as the weather.

^..^

Just before the harvest festival, Tis'hania made a startling, private announcement to Romana and Dashok. She was pregnant.

Romana was furious. "You shouldn't have taken the chance! You lost a child, and almost died!"

"I also bore a healthy baby before that. That puts me one up on everyone else here," Tis'hania quietly reminded her.

Romana shook her head and whirled on Dashok to berate him for his presumed part in this mad endeavor, but he stopped her cold with a denying shake of his head. He was as surprised as she was. Eventually Tis'hania admitted that the father was her old friend Presonne.

Romana stepped up to her friend and took her hands in her own. "I hope you know what you're doing. I don't want to lose you," she said, quiet but fierce.

Tis'hania smiled serenely, squeezing her hands warmly. "I'll be fine. Dashok here will have had plenty of experience by the time my turn comes." Smile dropping, she laid bare the truth. "If we're to survive, we need children. Period. None of us able to bear them can sit it out on privilege – of any kind."

Exasperated at her legendary stubbornness, Romana shook her head and swallowed her fears, flinging her arms around the older woman and hugging her tightly.

As expected, Romana went into labor a few weeks after midwinter, the first pain stabbing through her midsection as she returned from a brief walk through the snow between the communal houses. The next few hours were a blur of agony as her body betrayed her, making her writhe on her pallet as each contraction hit, then laying, panting, in between, too exhausted to even lift her head. "Now I know why we went to looming," she gasped out to Tis'hania early on..

She seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, the figures of those around her fading away with the receding light. Again and again she reached for the threads of the lives surrounding hers, as her individual Time Lord senses of time and space, life and fate, had always represented them. Those senses, like those of every colonist, had weakened since hopping between the worlds, and she could no longer see the threads clearly as they wove together, forming the living tapestry of the colony. She caught glimpses of the tiny thread of the life growing within her, struggling to separate itself from hers, but the stabbing pain of a new contraction ripped her away to the physical world before she could see if it would succeed and grow.

During other lulls between the spasms, she found herself drifting among her own memories, seeing the faces of people she'd once been close to flashing past, each bringing their separate load of remembered joy, or sorrow, or anger, or regret. Her favorite teacher at the Academy. The Doctor, during those infuriating years of traveling with him at the Council's demand. The man she'd almost married in E-space before returning to Gallifrey. The tyrant who'd executed him, and nearly her. Tis'hania, calmly serene, advising her during the time dilation crisis. The new young Time Lord, Joshua, reaching out to control the Vortex. She felt a special pang at that memory, wondering yet again at his history, and where he was now, hoping he'd been able to reunite the Doctor and his bondmate. Yet another contraction ripped through his smiling face and it morphed into Dashok's, leaning over her pallet with concern, telling her to push – it's almost over!

Dashok had prepared as best he could, but there was little he or anyone else could do but wait it out, while her own body did what it had to, what millions of generations before hers had done. Finally, finally, in the wee hours of the morning (and what other time is any baby ever born?), a tiny bundle of newborn sweetness lay mewling softly at her exhausted mother's side on the pallet – for it was a girl child.

"What will you name her?" Tis'hania gently asked. By ancient tradition, Gallifreyan children's family names were never announced in advance of the birth.

"Tasheira," came the whispered reply. "Bearer of hope."


	12. Setbacks

**Setbacks**

The storm at last had passed, and calmer waves now lapped gently on the brilliant newly-washed sands sparkling in the last rays of the sun. A few seabirds were testing the breeze, soaring up from the rocks to hover aloft above the crescent-shaped bay for a few minutes before returning to the safety of their nests for the night. The usual army of crustaceans swarmed across the sand in search of one last meal among the storm wrack before plunging into their holes again.

The peace was suddenly rent by a strange sound: a rhythmic, mechanical wheezing. Had any intelligence been there to see, they would have been startled at the sight of a closet-sized grey-green boulder fading into view on the grassy bench several yards above the high-tide mark. And even more startled a few seconds later, as the side of the boulder split open into a door, and a humanoid male stepped out onto the empty beach.

He looked around hopefully, then visibly sagged at the vast emptiness; not a single sign that any higher beings had ever been there for as far as the eye could see. Sighing heavily, he wilted down onto his knees in the sand, exhausted; then suddenly pounded both fists on the ground with a strangled, wordless cry of frustration and despair. Chest heaving, he dragged himself back up again, turned, and trudged back inside the "boulder", closing the door behind him.

Inside, he stepped across the large single room and up to a glowing column surrounded by control panels in the center. "We overshot the mark," he muttered, as if to himself. "We came back too far. But we're so close... I can feel it. Just a few years. Just one more little jump. Can you do that for me?" He caressed the panel above the power readouts, so dangerously low. A ripple of lights flickered gently within the glowing column, and he seemed to take it for an affirmative, because he smiled. "That's my girl." Then he reached for the time target control and closed his eyes, spinning the dial slowly as if he could find the right date by feel alone. "Right... there. One last jump, and then you can rest again." He drew up the lever and worked the pump, and the boulder faded out again, leaving the seabirds and sandcrawlers alone in the sunset once more.

^..^

By late spring, six more babies had been born in the village of Hope, and although none of the mothers had it exactly easy, and all secretly (or not-so-secretly) wished they could return to looming children, they all survived, and were able to return to light work within a few days, carrying their newborns everywhere in slings fashioned from their own clothing. Tis'hania, the last of the first crop of pregnant women, wasn't due to give birth for another three months.

Really, she wasn't.

So when those first streaks of blood appeared on her thighs, followed by a stabbing pain, she knew something was wrong. Again. Sending the nearest person running for Dashok, she leaned heavily on Presonne's arm and walked slowly back to her corner of the communal house, nearly collapsing onto hands and knees on her pallet as the first full contraction hit.

Dashok had no way of stopping it, and could only stand by helplessly as the blessedly short labor took its course. Before nightfall, her son had arrived, stillborn.

There was too much blood. And it didn't stop. Taking a deep breath to quell his fear, Dashok pulled out the contraption he'd devised of very sharp, slender, hollow thorns and carefully boiled rockrat intestine, and began transfusing blood from willing donors, first Presonne, then Romana. Finally, with a third donation, the deadly seeping red began to slow and at last stopped. He finished the third 'unit' of ten minute's drip, and then wrapped a bandage around her arm.

Tis'hania's tear-streaked face was turned to the wall, eyes closed. She didn't respond to anyone, even telepathically, although they knew she heard them. She simply lay there, unresponsive, barely breathing, for several days, even when Romana lost her composure and yelled at her.

Immediately contrite, Romana dropped back to her knees beside Tis'hania and wrapped her arms around her, weeping. "Please, Tis. Please don't leave me like this. I need you. I _need_ you. Please don't leave me..." Again and again she begged, until at last she felt the older woman stir within her arms, turning her head away from the wall and sobbing. She continued to hold her as the long-dammed tears fell.

She slowly recovered, though it was another week before she was strong enough to move from her pallet at last to sit in the sunshine for an hour. By the end of the month, she'd returned to work, but she didn't smile or laugh as often, and the shadow never left her eyes.

^..^

Later that summer, a strange malaise began to afflict some of the colonists. It came upon them slowly, picking its victims without any discernible pattern. Beginning with general fatigue, they lost their appetite, then began losing their hair, then suddenly all their strength fled for several days at a time, leaving them inert on their pallets. Mysterious pain affected various parts of their bodies, again without discernible pattern, stabbing or burning in one location for a few days before fading away only to attack a different area, joint, or limb a few days later. Then they slowly recovered and seemed fine, only to fall ill again a few weeks or months later.

That fall, the first one died, one of the oldest of the Councillors. A few weeks later, one of the younger women died, moaning in her sleep. Bewildered and supremely frustrated, Dashok spent every hour moving from one bedside to the next, offering what comfort and palliative care he could. "If only I had just one old-fashioned microscope; I might be able to discover what's causing this!" he moaned helplessly to Romana.

She took the two artisans who remembered the most about the ancient art of glassmaking and put them to work trying to rediscover it, in order to fashion the lenses he needed – though they all knew the quality and clarity needed would be years away. "We did it once, we can do it again!" she told them grimly, through gritted teeth.

With no answers available, the colony struggled on, under the constantly-looming fear of this new threat. It abated somewhat during the cold, hungry winters, but then returned each spring, striking a new batch of victims seemingly at random, proving fatal about half the time. By their sixth summer, a full third of their original number had perished. As yet, no one had regained their ability to regenerate, and now it seemed lost forever.

Worst of all, the malaise took most of the few fertile women. In those five years after it first appeared, only three more babies were born.

Romana, the only one to bear a second child, had another girl, naming her Belanna, bringer of joy. She'd made the very odd decision to sleep with three different men on successive nights, and if she knew which one was the father, she kept it to herself.

The fourth summer, Romana and Tis'hania moved into one of the new small houses in the second circle with her two daughters. Only with her closest friend, in the lonely midnight hours as the girls lay sleeping a few feet away, did Romana share her fears for the future. "I'm so afraid that I've brought these two precious lives into the world for a short, miserable, lonely fate," she whispered in the dark. "How long will we all survive? Will they be all alone before they're even adults? Will they even live that long themselves? Oh, Tis! What have I done? What have I done?" All Tis'hania could do was hold her as she wept.

^..^

Early on, the colonists had decided that every tenth day should be a day of, well, if not exactly _rest_, then at least a lighter workload, everyone puttering around their homes or staying close to the village rather than going out onto the bay or into the woods or fields or forge. It was one such restday, late in the sixth summer, on such a fine, glorious morning that they were able to (mostly) forget their constant fears and relax. A bonfire had been planned for the evening, to celebrate nothing in particular, and Romana was slowly making the rounds to see who could donate a rockrat or seabird or varigoat for the evening's barbecue (wondering idly where the word had come from; was it the Doctor who'd called it that?).

Carrying two-year-old Belanna, she met up with Tis'hania and Tasheira (who had covered the other half of the village) in the margin between the first rings of houses and the Council Tree to compare numbers. A great many others were also meandering idly around, gossiping and enjoying the sun.

Suddenly a shockwave went through the telepathic network, with a single verbal word: *_Strangers!*_ Almost as one, everyone turned to stare at the four unknown people who had appeared out of nowhere near the corin's apron: two young men, a slightly older man, and a blonde woman who looked the elder's contemporary. Colonists further away from the square came running at the mental cry and joined the staring ring, mouths agape.

Romana found herself staring at one of the younger men in particular, the dark-haired one, who seemed so familiar... when suddenly his identity screamed across her brain and came gasping out of her mouth: _"Joshua?" _There was no doubt in her mind; this was the young Time Lord who had stood with her and the Doctor in the Chamber of Harmony, setting then destroying the Time Lock.

He turned and gaped back at her, visibly searching his memory and then recognizing her in return. "Romana?"

Before she could reply, she heard Tis'hania beside her, in a shaken, emotion-wracked voice she hadn't heard since the miscarriage. "Doctor? …. Son?" Romana shifted her focus to the older man who was staring back, not recognizing him – but then she felt more than saw Tis'hania begin to fall in a faint, and she whirled around to try to catch her, only partially succeeding with Belanna in her arms. She caught her head, though, easing it to the ground – and then the man was there, too, gathering Tis'hania up tenderly.

"Mother?" came his broken, unbelieving whisper.

Her eyes fluttered open again, and she reached a hand up to his cheek – then faltered, unsure. "But... is it you? Corin? Chethonal? Is that you? You seem..." she couldn't put a finger on it, but he was somehow changed.

Romana glanced up at the other three, who had dashed over just behind the Doctor, if it was him. "Joshua?" He nodded. She struggled to her feet, and he reached a hand to help her up. Glancing at the woman, a long-forgotten piece of their old conversation came back to Romana, and she gasped. "These are the duplicates, aren't they? Your parents? Not the original Doctor and his bondmate?"

He nodded again, while giving her a sidelong admiring glance for her remembering that detail.

Tis'hania, in Corin's arms, heard and gasped too, her hand faltering. Corin caught it, though, and held it tightly. "Yes, I'm a duplicate of the original Corin, created in a metacrisis moment, with all his memories up to that point, in his tenth life. _All_ his memories, Mother. I'm him, too."

Her hand moved again, and he released it. She touched his cheek softly... and gave in, accepting it. "Chethonal..." she whispered again, joyously; her old childhood nickname for him. His face twisted, and he pulled her close, burying his face in her shoulder.

Joshua gazed at the pair on the ground, stealing glances sideways at Romana, when suddenly Rose's voice came from behind him. "_Joshua!_" He turned to her, puzzled – she'd said his name like he was forgetting something.

A wide, teary, sunrise smile lay on her face, and she half-laughed at him. "_This is it!_" she said emphatically, then... "Go get the Doctor!"


	13. Part III: Home?

_**Part Three**_

_He moved with some uncertainty as if he didn't know  
Just what he was there for or where he ought to go  
Once he reached for something golden hanging from a tree  
And his hand came down empty_

_**Home?**_

_Larrik Hollow, Serenity, Original Universe_

Joshua paused the old recording the Doctor had left him all those decades ago, in their fifteenth year on Serenity, when he'd come back from one of his first solo trips in Baby to find the Doctor and Mama Rose mysteriously missing. The message had told him to hop forward three days and he'd find them returned safe and sound (and he had, both), and also to save the message always, because someday he'd need to know the exact date. Finally, after all these years, it was time. The second part of the Doctor's prediction had come true: there was no doubt in Joshua's mind that this was the moment, the reason: to take the Doctor to New Gallifrey, to be reunited with his mother, Lady Tis'hania. Mum had been exactly right.

Carefully punching the exact space-time coordinates from the readout on the message coin's flat surface into Baby's nav computer, he checked them against each other three times before he shook his head, ruefully recognizing the delaying tactic for what it was. _I've been longing for this day to come for so long. Why am I hesitating now?_ He didn't bother replying to his own question; he knew the reason. He had no idea how long this trip would last, but the sooner it began, the sooner it would be over, and then... he really would never see them again. Ever. _All these years I've had this one last meeting to look forward to, to hold on to. How can I bear it when it's done?_ There wasn't an answer for that one, either. There never was.

Sighing, he forced himself to drop into the pilot's seat and work the controls, bringing Baby back to Larrik Hollow. _Home._ No matter that he'd lived his first fifteen years with Mum and Dad at their Gallifrey Estate outside London in Pete's World, no matter how long he lived or with whom anywhere else in his life, _Home_ could only be one place in all the multiverse: Larrik Hollow, Serenity, with the Doctor puttering around the farm and Mama Rose laughing at his shoulder. He never examined why he felt closer to the Doctor than to Dad – simple math took care of that answer. He'd lived with the Doctor twice as long, and more recently. Besides, now that he'd at last found the way to slip between the worlds, Dad and Mum were likely in his future, for a long time yet.

He'd arrived. He stood, stretching, as if he'd only been gone a few days, and reached for the chain to _schloop_ himself out of Baby. Still, he hesitated one long, last moment before pulling it down, to find himself in the afternoon sunshine before their front door. The sights and scents of the farm washed over him, blowing away the cobwebs from his mind, rinsing his soul clean again of everything but the sharp edge of longing. _I suppose nearly everyone feels the same way about their childhood home. Doesn't make my memories any less real, my emotions any less valid._

He stopped justifying himself to a nonexistent inquisitor and peered around the landscape, listening hard for any sign of the Doctor's or Mama Rose's whereabouts. Silence. So he opened the door and stepped across the threshold, holding his breath against the stinging memories. Still no sign – then he spied the kitchen door hanging ajar and grinned. Only one place they'd be on a quiet, sleepy, late summer afternoon like this. The hammock.

Knowing the squeaky front door should have attracted the sharp-eared Doctor's attention as it usually did, Josh walked across the large communal room and out the open door. Sure enough, the hammock was just swinging to a stop, a familiar tousled brown head popping above the rim, followed by blonde. He paused involuntarily, inhaling sharply, then walked swiftly up the path. Unable to speak, he ignored the Doctor's "Joshua? What happened?", reaching instead for both of them and pulling them into a tight embrace so they couldn't see his face, already streaking with tears. They must have realized something was wrong, because they each simply put their arms around him in return, holding him close, until he got himself under control.

"I've missed you both so much!" he managed to tell them. Their hugs tightened, and after a few moments longer, he was able straighten up and draw back, so they could see each other's faces.

"What happened?" repeated the Doctor, greatly concerned. "How long have you been gone? Why weren't you able to get back?"

Realizing instantly that they thought his younger self had never made it back until now, he shook his head. "No, that's not it. I – the me that left here a couple of days ago – I'll be back tomorrow. This is something else."

The Doctor was growing even more concerned. "You're crossing your own timeline? Joshua, you _know _that's forbidden!"

The younger man shook his head again, moving one hand to the Time Lord's shoulder and squeezing it. "It's all right, don't worry. I already lived through this. We won't be here when the young me arrives – though I'll about have a heart attack before I find the message you're going to leave me. You'll tell me to jump ahead three days, and when I do, you'll be back, and this me will be gone again. I won't meet myself, I promise."

The Doctor and Rose glanced at each other, supreme puzzlement written on both faces. "But where are we going?" asked Rose.

Joshua smiled down at her, then back to the Doctor, waiting a beat for emphasis. Then, quietly, "I've come to take you home."

He could almost see the thoughts run through the Time Lord's mind. "This IS home, Joshua. Gallifrey is gone. Not even you could go back to before the Time Lock was broken."

Rose was remembering another time she'd been told she was "home". Her eyes grew wide, and she half-gasped, "Joshua? Have you found the way to the parallel world again?"

"Yes. And I'm not the only one." Still speaking to the Doctor, "You remember the cracks in time and space that took first me and then her into the Time Lock, between Gallifreys? I found out – just as the Lock was breaking, one opened again, in the other direction. And everyone waiting in the Council Chamber, along with many who had been frozen in the square outside it, made it through."

The Doctor's eyes grew impossibly wide, but he didn't dare breathe the question so obviously in them. But Josh saw it anyway, and answered, gently. "Yes. Including Lady Tis'hania. She's alive, Doctor, on the alternate Gallifrey. I've just come from there, to take you back."

The Doctor staggered back a few paces, then covered his face with both hands and stood for a moment, shoulders shaking. Then he dropped his hands, took a deep breath and said, as steadily as he could, "How do we get there?"

^..^

Two hours later, the holographic message to young Joshua duly recorded and left for him to trip over, the three of them were arranged in the leather seats on Baby's bridge. After some discussion, the Doctor had elected to leave his Mama TARDIS in Larrik Hollow. "She's almost out of power; she'd be dead in the water as soon as we slipped worlds. That's what happened the first time we went there, remember?" he asked Rose.

"I never have asked you," she replied, "how it was that you and Jenny could make so many jumps in her the last time, when I was twinned?"

"Because her battery banks just happened to be full – we'd made a stop just before then at the old Cardiff Rift to fill them up – in fact, that's where we got the whiff of those Sontaran kids that led us across. And don't forget the extra power supplies Jenny had installed the years before then. Even with them, though, we were dangerously low before we slipped back. It's been a long time since we've been anywhere, now, and she's just been sitting here. I should have powered her up a while back. But, no, I don't want to wait and do that now – even if you could take us through in tandem, Josh – and I'm not convinced you can, yet. No, we'll just leave her here this time." And so they did.

Now, he grinned at the younger Time Lord from the nav seat. "Can't wait to see how you pull this off. How ARE you slipping realities? What hole did you find this time? And how long did it take you to find it?"

Josh laughed. "Several decades. But your promise was kept in the end, Doctor. I found my way back to Mum and Dad's at last." His smile turned sly. "You're going to get a kick out of how. Courtesy of the Daleks."

The Doctor sat bolt upright, alarmed, but Josh laughed again and waved him down. "No, not new ones. They're not back. Residual side effects of an old battle. Just wait." Refusing to say more, he swiveled around and faced his panel, throwing switches and turning dials with as much ease as his elder ever had. Said elder watched admiringly, his smile broadening as he picked up the clues: Josh was showing off. He glanced sideways at Rose, sharing his amusement, to be met by her own; she'd caught it, too.

"Here we are! Recognize the place?" came from the pilot. The Doctor stood to peer out the high windows – and his jaw dropped.

"The Medusa Cascade! But..."

"Where the stolen planets were brought, for the Dalek's Reality Bomb, right?" Rose stood, too; she'd never had a proper look at the Cascade the first time.

"Right you are! And that's our doorway, too: tiny leaks of Z-neutrino energy that escaped from the Crucible's heart as it exploded bored through to the mirror Cascades in thousands of alternate universes, tying them all together at this spot, and leaving atomic-sized pinhole routes open between them. Hold on tight, I need to find the exact balance point..." Flying straight, Joshua took them to the heart of the amazing light show that was the Medusa Cascade, then spent a few minutes carefully nudging them back and forth until he was in the "sweet spot".

"OK, I'm with you so far," the Doctor piped up, having been chewing over the problem while Josh maneuvered. "I can see how a TARDIS might be able to slip through. But how can you find the right one?"

Josh turned back and favored him with a huge, satisfied smile. "Only one way. With the right TARDIS. One that can recognize and home in on precisely the right base frequency." He reached a hand and patted the console beside him. "Like Baby here. Because she lived the first twenty years of her life in Pete's World, she absorbed those frequencies, then we weaned her onto those of our universe. But she still remembered. She can operate quite easily in both worlds."

"AC-DC!" laughed Rose. "Electrical current converters," she explained to her husband's puzzled look.

Even more confused now, he shot her a "OK, right" look, then turned back to Josh with a grin. "Brilliant. Simple, and brilliant. I don't want to know how you figured it out, you'll make me look bad."

Josh laughed again, and waved him off. "Ready?"

"Ready!" came two replies. The passengers resumed their seats, and Josh faced forward once more, using both console controls and their telepathic communion to help Baby reach out and search for her first home frequency.

Very softly at first, then growing steadily more pronounced, a deep, rumbling vibration overtook the time ship. It never quite reached tooth-rattling stage, but the three passengers were quite glad when it faded out after several long minutes. Watching out the windows, the Doctor and Rose saw the phantasmagoria of the Cascade repeatedly shift colors and shapes, stars from beyond the clouds jumping positions several times before they found their new sockets. When the rumbling faded and their vision cleared, the Doctor blinked. "Whoa."

"Yeah," replied Josh. "This Cascade is slightly red-shifted from ours. Just enough to give me a headache if I stare at it too long, like I did the first time."

Thus warned, the Doctor hastily averted his eyes, and watched his adopted son work his controls again, flying them straight once more until they had left the eye-searing lights behind. Then Josh swiveled around and asked, "Can you call up the last bookmark for me? Labeled New Gallifrey, of course."

The Doctor turned and fired up the nav computer, opening the file of precise time-and-space coordinates logged whenever the large red Bookmark! button above the console was pressed.

Rose grinned, remembering the idea that had led to the installation of that button: prompted by her stories of coming home to Jackie after just a few days, only to find she'd been gone a year and believed murdered. Her bondmate caught her thought and winked over his shoulder at her. "Much better this way, yeah? Ever missed a meeting?" he asked Josh, who grinned and shook his head.

The Doctor continued, "Never have gotten around to putting one in my TARDIS yet. Really need to do that before we begin traveling again. Do remind me, love?" Then, selecting the New Gallifrey bookmark, he sent the coordinates over to the pilot's controls. Josh added half an hour to the time, and then looked seriously at the Doctor one last time.

"Ready?" he asked again.

Tears prickling at the rushing returning realization of their destination, and who was waiting for him there, the Doctor took a deep breath. "Yeah," he said softly.


	14. Nuclear Meltdown

**Nuclear Meltdown  
**

_Several decades earlier, in the Doctor's personal timeline:_

_I wish they would just leave me alone... _He didn't know if he meant the insectoids or the memories. In fact, the distinction didn't even cross his mind.

He was sprawled on his back, head downslope on the slick mossy granite. A tiny streamlet of the collecting moisture trickled continuously in the twilight a foot away from his hair on its way out of the cave. His left arm was outstretched where the beast had dropped it when it gave up dragging him by it, taking a few curious bites from the hand before curling its rubbery lips in disgust. Apparently Time Lords were not to its palate. Or perhaps he was simply too bitter from stewing in his own poison for so long.

The blood had finally slowed again, black pools in the gloom beneath the mangled hand and the side of his neck. He watched incuriously as the insectoids gathered again for their feast-and-regurgitate cycle. As they had no minds or palates, the insectoids didn't spurn the meal. An ice-cold draft seeping from deeper in the cave chilled his chest, the torn jacket and t-shirt giving no protection now over the three long, deep gashes running from check to midriff – the beast possessed claws as sharp as its teeth. The frigid air stabbed icicles deep into the wounds, vying with the insectoid bites for the attention of his pain-blocking reflexes. Those had given up the fight long before the blood stopped, and now he simply endured the pain, waiting.

Thin, bloodless cries from other, unseen cave-dwellers swept over him, mingling with the wild, eerie calls and howls from the jungle outside the cave. Every so often, one of them would morph into a familiar voice, calling to him, crying or screaming out his name in excitement or fear or anger. Donna. Sarah Jane. Wilf. The Master. Jack. Martha. Countless others from countless adventures, throughout his endless years. And always, always, Rose.

Over and over she called him, sometimes from very far away, sometimes from just outside the cave, and each time her locket on its tiny chain around his neck pulsed with her voice, sending shafts of icy fire through his twin hearts. He was continuously aware of the gold heart lying now above his torn breast; when it wasn't pulsing, it radiated heat at the same glowing temperature her body had, human-normal, a few degrees warmer than his own stasis. Humans had always felt like they were running a high fever to him. Over the centuries, he'd gotten used to it most of the time, but sometimes it still startled him. Rose was always so warm, so alive, so loving and happy, even when she was scared out of her wits. She was so brave. So kind. So strong. So... gone.

Her face on the beach, as he'd ruthlessly shoved her into his twin's arms, floated before his eyes – it never really left him. Two long years since that day, struggling to be normal, to have adventures, to do what was right, and every minute of every day her accusing, heartbroken eyes watched him from his own traitorous memory. Not even Rassilon's sneering taunts had overcome them. Only... very briefly... _her._

His mother's eyes, the only ones able to push Rose's momentarily aside, gazed at him again from the dais behind Rassilon. _What was she doing on her knees? What degradations had she been enduring before the Master called them out of the Time Lock?_ And he'd sent her back. He'd looked into his own mother's eyes, seeing them give him the answer, flicking over to the White Point Star, and then shine with forgiveness for the action he was about to take …. and he'd taken it. He'd sent her back into hell with Rassilon and the Master.

_And I called them monsters._

_I should be the one confined in the wheelchair, the lifeless shell, preferably locked away somewhere where I can't hurt anyone, ever again. Locked up like Lucy Saxon in her cage. _His own voice came back to him across the years, intermingling with Davros' like two sides of a coin. "I got worse. I got clever." "But this is the truth, Doctor. You take ordinary people and fashion them into weapons." "I tricked people into killing themselves." "Behold your Children of Time, transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this."

_No more... No more..._

When he'd realized that Wilf, the old fool, had gotten himself trapped within the bleedoff control box about to be flooded with deadly radiation, his previous manic race from "death" turned instantly to bleak welcome, spurred by the look in his mother's eyes a few minutes before. _Leave it all behind. Let a new man walk away. This one's done enough damage, caused enough pain and suffering. To myself more than anyone. I'm so tired..._ So he'd put himself in the box and absorbed every ray. He'd even indulged himself for a while, morbidly making the rounds to say goodbye to all his companions, even torturing himself with an impossibly brief, final glimpse of his beloved. He'd spied the golden flash falling from her pocket as she'd turned to run up the stairs to Mickey's place after wishing him Happy New Year, and selfishly staggered over to pick it up rather than calling it to her attention. The tiny gold heart holding her photo and a lock of her hair instantly became the most precious treasure in the universe, and he'd fixed the clasp around his own neck with trembling fingers – shaking from the radiation poisoning of course. Then he lurched and stumbled back to the TARDIS, spinning her into the Void before chucking it all and letting the regeneration come.

Coming out of the regen, the shock on finding himself _not changed at all_ was greater than any jolt of new teeth and hair he'd ever had. He'd frantically looked for a mirror to confirm it, staring openmouthed at his familiar tenth face for almost an hour, unable to process it at first. He'd no idea what had gone wrong, why it had stopped at the same point as the last time, when he'd redirected the energy into his hand, setting up the conditions that had ultimately made his metacrisis twin.

The physical agony from the radiation poisoning was gone, replaced now by every drop of emotional pain he'd been holding back all these years of his life. Every face of every person he'd betrayed, tricked, lost, left behind, spurned, killed, or watched sacrifice themselves paraded through his mind again and again, raging at him or simply staring their accusations. Or – a thousand times worse – their undying love and devotion.

He pulled himself off the grating, running from her eyes again, stumbling away from the pain, back down to the control room, setting the controls without looking at the Time Rotor or opening his mind to the TARDIS' alien, non-verbal consciousness. Setting the target for the heart of the sun. Her sun. The ship's explosion would make only a minor solar flare, but perhaps a single, tiny photon that once was his heart would land on her arm someday, never to be recognized. He ignored the shrieking alarms, the increasing insistence for a response from the time ship, the roundels shaking themselves from their wall sockets and smashing on the floor. His last conscious thought, just as a blast of _something_ knocked him back from the console and he struck his head on the corner of the jump seat, was to whisper her name.

_Rose..._

^..^

If he thought he had known bleak despair before, he was mistaken. Swimming slowly up from the black empty depths, waking up on the grating, _still alive_...

_Brilliant. I can't even kill myself properly._

He wearily raised his head and looked at the Time Rotor, seeing it blinking balefully back at him, an accusingly dull grey-blue. This time he opened his mind to her, but found only a cold blank wall. He'd tried to kill her, too.

He suddenly flashed back to that last instant of consciousness, replaying the vision of the blast that had knocked him over: a shaft of yellow-white energy lancing out from the console itself. She'd knocked him out. Apparently her automatic defenses had kicked in.

Groaning, he hauled himself off the grating and half-fell against the console, but as he reached for the temporal stabilizer lever, she sent a nasty electric shock through it, pulsing anger at him at the same time.

Every ounce of his self-loathing instantly crystallized, part of it transferring onto his beloved ship. *_Fine!*_ he thought furiously at her. _*Just let me out on the nearest planet – preferably uninhabited, so I don't ruin anyone else's life, and I'll leave you alone permanently!*_ A name from the past flashed into his head, Selcos III, a pristine, primitive sphere away from all the star lanes, blessedly uninhabited by any intelligent life, as requested. He sent the image to the ship, reaching a hand out to enter the settings, and this time she let him. As he tripped the vortex manipulator, the ship hesitated, then began her jolting journey. He saw the time change without any input and shrugged. He didn't care _when_ he was. If she had some other idea for some reason, it meant nothing to him.

They _whooshed_ into existence on the side of a mountain, in a small clearing otherwise surrounded by jungle, the TARDIS landing him a little harder than necessary, jolting him off his feet a final time. Furious again at the traitorous, uncaring ship, he flung himself out the door without bothering to close it behind him, and stalked off into the wild. _If I can't suicide by TARDIS, perhaps there's a predator here that will do the job. If nothing else, I'll starve myself to death._

^..^

Now, several cold, hungry weeks later, he waited for the planet to fulfill its seeming promise and finish him off. He hadn't eaten a bite, and when the beast had struck, pouncing from overhead without any warning at all, he had welcomed the teeth and talons like a lover's caress. He did wish the insectoids – and the memories – would leave him alone, but couldn't raise the energy to either wave away the one or concentrate away the other. He simply endured grimly, knowing the end was finally near.

He knew – how well he knew! - the Master had refused to regenerate, dying in his arms on the Valiant, but he didn't quite know how he'd done it. Regenerating had always seemed an automatic thing to him, whether he'd wanted to or not, and a couple of times had even happened when he was unconscious. But he was determined to forestall it somehow.

Apparently he hadn't figured out the trick yet, though. Just as the last of his strength faded, dripping out of his veins with the last drops of blood, the familiar golden glow came from nowhere to envelope his exhausted, bloody, would-be corpse. Fury as well as fire shot through him; fury at this final, supreme injustice, that he, of all the murderous, tricky, trecherous individuals, should be unable to simply end his life and rid the universe of his continuing menace.

The fire faded, leaving him unchanged once again, panting on the rock slab, sobbing in frustration. "_Why?_" He pounded his fists on the granite. "Why can't I just _die?_"

"There you go again, thinking you're still in charge," Rose replied derisively from the shadows beyond his feet.


	15. Hell Hath No Fury

**Hell Hath No Fury  
**

"What?"

The Doctor painfully lifted his head and peered past his feet into the gloom. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes grew round as saucers as the shadows stirred and her face swam into the dim greenish light. For several endless seconds, he couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Finally finding his voice, he whispered, "Rose?"

"Yup!" came the cheerful reply, complete with popped P. As he continued gaping, frozen in place, she looked down at the rock she was sitting cross-legged on – the rest of her body materializing dimly with the motion – and picked up the wide-mouth jar that appeared beside her as she reached for it, twisting off the top and peering inside. She reached two fingers in and pulled out a thumb-size gherkin, popped it into her mouth and began noisily crunching, only then looking back at him, eyebrows arched in amusement.

He slowly sat up, keeping his hands glued to the rock on either side as if they were his anchor to slippery reality. Finally, after two more pickles had been fished out and consumed, he managed to gather his scattered wits enough to whisper hoarsely, "You're not real."

She paused, blinking in surprise. "No? And how do you know that, genius?"

"Because you're eating pickles," came the inane reply, all he could think of. "You hate pickles. Ever since the Slitheen, you won't eat 'em."

Nonplussed, she blinked at him again, then looked back into the jar. After a moment, she stuck her fingers back in, and slowly pulled out a huge green olive instead, waving it at him like a trophy before defiantly popping it into her mouth, a tiny grin teasing the corners of her lips, daring him to make something of the switch.

Somehow, the very Rose-ness of the actions just drove the realization home, and he wilted, eyes closing against the pain. "I'm hallucinating."

"Possibly."

"What do you mean, _possibly_?" Whipping his head back up, he managed to glare at the vision. "Of course I am! You – Rose couldn't possibly be here! She's – you're back in Pete's World, where – " Suddenly realizing what he was about to say, he stopped dead, hoping she wouldn't pick up on it.

Too late, of course. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she hissed at him, "Go on, say it!", making him flinch at the echo of her plea on the beach, the last thing the real Rose had ever said to him. "_Where you left me._" The olive jar landed back on the rock with a sharp rap. "You _LEFT_ me, all alone, and just went swanning off without a backward glance, with your _best friend!_"

Flinching away again from the last words, he pounced on the ones before. "I didn't leave you alone! You were with him!"

"Who?"

"_Him!"_

"_Who?"_

Furious now at her ludicrous mock-ignorance, he spluttered to come up with a reference that didn't come too close to the raw, red center of his jealous pain. "The other ... the... the metacrisis Doctor!"

She shook her head violently, exasperated. "You don't get it! You don't know _who_ or _what_ you left me with! You never even looked directly at him, let alone did any kind of examination to make sure of what he was!"

Stunned, he simply stared, wordlessly, as this construct from his own deep subconscious mind laid out his sins of omission one by one.

"You don't _know_ he really was you. All you have is his word – and Donna's. He could have been anything, under any influence! _She_ wouldn't have known!

"For all you know, he could have died the instant you left in the TARDIS, because he was connected to it somehow. Or for that matter, when you took the Time Lord mind out of Donna's brain. You don't have any idea how that might have affected _him!_

"Or maybe he _was_ you, through and through – and just went swanning off himself after a while, just like you, unable to handle life on the slow path, leaving me behind again.

"Or maybe I made him leave, pushed him away, because he was too much like you, but he _wasn't_ you."

Her voice dropped back to a hiss. "Or maybe he was _you_ – all the very worst, most evil thoughts and impulses wrapped into one. The Valeyard. What would the Valeyard do to me? Can you imagine that? He'd take _real_ good care of me, wouldn't he?

"Did you stop and think of that? Any of it? Or were you too busy planning your escape?"

His tortured breathing was the only sound in the cave for several endless seconds. Then he whispered, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because hell hath no fury..." she whispered back, said fury incarnate. "Besides," she added in a suddenly, shockingly normal tone, one eyebrow arching again. "I'm just a fantasy, remember?"

"Go away..." He was broken.

"Make me."

"What?"

"If I'm an illusion, and you're in charge, make me go away."

No, _now_ he was broken, staring into the abyss of his own lonely, psychotic despair, reflected in beloved brown eyes. "I don't want to," he finally admitted in a small, childlike voice.

"Like I said..." she replied calmly, picking up the jar again to fish out another olive.

He kept staring at her in the shadows, watching her polish off the green orbs one by one. Without his consciously controlling it, one hand crept out, inching toward her shoulder. He seemed to see it just inches away and hesitated, then stretched his fingers the final gap – only to brush them against the moss on the cave wall behind her. She'd vanished instantly, like the hallucination she was.

He clutched a handful of moss spasmodically, sobbing quietly. In an almost normal voice, he choked out, "At least you could have left me the olives," before curling up into a dense ball of pain and despair once more. He didn't move for days, until finally clawing hunger drove him out of the cave in search of food. If he couldn't die, he was going to have to live.

^..^

_Several years later, on Bora Bora, Pete's World_

"You had a hallucination? Of me? Oh, Doctor..." Rose wrapped her arms around him, holding him even tighter, and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

"One? Try hundreds. Or maybe it _was_ just one, that lasted for all that time. Baby, you were my constant companion in that blasted jungle."

Several weeks after their arrival in paradise, following the Doctor's rescue from the mirrors that had also seen Rose's fantastical twinning, he had finally begun to crawl up out of his black depression. Her constant, supportive, loving presence had at last allowed him to start telling her of the hell he'd been inhabiting since their separation.

She raised her head again, a tiny smile teasing the corners of her mouth upwards. "Just me? Nobody else? I shouldn't be jealous?"

He glanced back at her, checking for the presence of the smile, and tried to return it, though his was still rusty, unused. "Well... there were a _few_ blondes – I mean times – I mean..." He couldn't keep it up, though; his would-be grin drained away, and he leaned back into her embrace again, sighing. "There were others, sometimes, other ghosts from the past, but you were _always_ there."

They were lying together on the big, double chaise lounge on the deck outside the bungalow, the Doctor sitting in front of Rose, leaning back against her with all four of her limbs wrapped around him. A very odd position, he thought, but oddly... comfortable. It made him feel loved. And safe. Another infinitesimal iota of lunatic torque drained away.

"I wasn't always that psychotically bitchy, though, was I?"

"No. Only at first. After a while you settled down into just ordinary bitchy. – I'm teasing. You weren't bitchy, you've never been. Besides, that wasn't _you_, that was me; a manifestation of my own cosmic guilt over the things I'd done – and deep, denying mourning over losing you, even though – no, _especially_ because I'd done it myself, by pushing you away and abandoning you. Those things your image said about Corin, the possibilities of what had happened after I left you two here, were only the things I'd thought of myself after the fact, possibilities I'd been torturing myself with subconsciously. You – she just brought them all out into the open."

Her old psychiatrist was right, she reflected. Simply being able to tease out strands from the mad cacophony of thoughts and feelings that made a tangled psychosis and put a name, a description, and a reason on each one was an incredibly liberating first step towards freedom and sanity. It was the only way she had to help him, just listening. Just being there on his journey, as – apparently – her specter had before. And loving him. Always.

"How long were you there?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. There were a several changes of seasons – many of them. It was years, I don't know how many. Could have been anywhere from..." With an almost physical effort, he put a number on them. "Five years to... fifteen. Maybe twenty." He shook his head. "Doesn't really matter. It's just one big long blur now."

"How did you survive?"

He shrugged again. "I slowly learned what I could eat, what I couldn't. Had a few run-ins with some of the larger animals before they decided to stay away from my cave. I regenerated a few times when I'd made a mistake and ate something I shouldn't have. Good, if painful, way to learn. But as you can see, I never changed bodies. I still don't know why I'm still stuck."

"I can't pretend to be disappointed," she whispered in his ear before nibbling on it.

He did manage a small smile at that. "I guess there are compensations, after all."

She thought of something else. "What about those scars?" she asked, running her fingers across his chest where the beast had slashed him.

He twisted to face her again, confused. "What scars? The wounds were healed when I regenned that first time."

"That's odd," she said after a moment's reflection. "Because I saw them, three horrible, long scars across your neck and torso, when you were in the mirror."

"Well," he replied thoughtfully. "Mirrors don't always reflect just what's on the outside. Especially in a situation like that."


	16. Rescue

**Rescue**

_Selcos III, The Doctor's Jungle_

Jenny paused for a quick breather when she reached the top of the low ridge slanting across her route, leaning against a boulder and taking in the view. _Damn good thing I grabbed the machete._ The undergrowth she'd been slashing her way through was the worst she'd ever fought, dense and tangled; obviously no very large creatures had been trotting around making paths. She pulled the range finder she'd downloaded the captain's launch's sensor data into – unable to figure out how to interface it with the hidden machine's systems – and took another sighting of the humanoid life form's reported position against the mountain range on the skyline. She'd drifted slightly right; she now needed to aim just left of the closest snow-covered peak. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out in a preparatory huff and pushed off the boulder, starting the downhill side. _I just hope that really is him, after all this effort!_

_Dad..._ Of all the individuals in this incredibly, unbelievably immense universe, she'd honestly given up any thought of ever finding him again, the mysterious visitor to Messaline who'd made such a world-shattering difference to the combating inhabitants. When she'd woken up from her deathlike coma (at least that's how Cline had described it) after being shot to find her father gone, she'd stolen the captain's launch to follow him. Nine years later, that dream had faded – though she had indeed made a difference in her travels, several times. The Tarkofanites, freed of their bloodthirsty dictator. The former passengers and crew of the colony ship Daedalus, launched generations before and lost in deep space after the commander and half the crew were killed and the engines disabled in some freak cosmic accident, now settling into their destination planet at last. Several minor skirmishes on a dozen planets averted or won bloodlessly, a handful of petty tyrants or criminal kingpins (or both) locked away in prison. The pastoral lands of Serenity un-bespoiled by a rapacious intergalactic mining corporation...

As always when she reached that last line in her curriculum vitae, she flinched and shied away from the stabbing ache of memory. _Jordan..._ Two years on, and she could still see the explosion in the square like it was yesterday. A number of people standing around the temporary stage as if they'd been watching a scuffle. Her lover pausing on the stage itself as she called his name, gaping back at her as though caught doing something wrong, then the blast ripping through both the platform and the man like butter. The questions of what had happened that day had never been answered satisfactorily. Some day she might dare to let herself love again, but it would never be the same. Never...

So there she was, just flying along in her little ship (the same captain's launch she'd stolen on Messaline; it was amazingly comfortable and well-equipped even for long-distance space travel), more or less at random, when the ship picked up a strange signal emanating from this otherwise uninhabited planet. The launch had refused to identify the signal, saying only that it wasn't natural, so she'd traced it down to the source: a very odd lump on the side of a mountain, completely covered over with vines and shrubbery. Something about it had looked as unnatural as the signal, so she'd taken an ax and laser saw and started chopping and cutting.

She'd stared at the blue wooden box that had emerged from the undergrowth in shock, tinged with growing excitement, as Cline's description of the Doctor's mysterious "ship" (she'd never seen it herself) had replayed in her memory. Could this be his ship? She found the doorway and began chopping again, pausing often to gulp and gape as she got further and further inside the impossible box, bigger on the inside...

Over the several days it had taken her to clear the growth completely from what looked like a control room, she kept fighting the feeling that she was being watched. It wasn't until the fifth day that she'd realized it was the ship itself, somehow tickling her own mind. When all was clear, she'd wandered around the apparently lifeless center console, brushing her hand lightly over the very odd and apparently jury-rigged collection of controls – and jumped back as lights began blinking and beeping. Then, a few seconds later, a choppy voice behind her made her jump out of her skin. "Emerg-cy progra-... Emerg-cy progra-..." She whirled around to see a bit of an old holographic recording in a tight loop, and her jaw had hit the floor.

"_Dad!"_

After a few more repetitions, the recording had frozen on a single frame, and she'd stood staring, tears unnoticed on her cheeks. There was no mistake: the same features, the same unruly hair, odd striped brown clothing. It was the Doctor.

An electronic chirp from the console regained her attention, and she leapt over to the display screen. It had come up on its own, but she couldn't make heads or tails of the picture at first. Then, slowly, she picked out what could be land features, and realized it was a map of the surrounding terrain, with a glowing, pulsating red dot in the upper right quadrant. Was the ship – it had to be a ship – trying to tell her something?

She tried a few buttons and switches, but the display didn't change. After consideration, she went back to her launch and pulled up its sensor suite, grid-searching the surroundings. Finally, it located some life signs that it thought might be humanoid (the launch didn't have very sophisticated systems, not being intended for long-term use as a solo exploratory vessel) about ten miles northeast, and Jenny thought the map it displayed resembled the one in the blue box. So she downloaded the info into her handheld range finder and started off, grabbing the machete from where she'd dropped it on the ground.

Less than two miles away, she gave up and turned back: it was already late afternoon and her progress through the underbrush was glacial. Better get a good night's sleep and start off in the morning, properly prepared this time. At least it was apparently summertime; the air was warm but not too hot for hiking.

Now it was late on that second day, and she was getting close. She suddenly stumbled out of the brush into a bit of a clearing, running alongside the banks of a stream – and, for the first time, what looked like a path!

But which way to go – upstream or down? She couldn't see any discernible footprints, so she mentally flipped a coin and turned upstream. A couple hundred yards and she was convinced it was a path created by some large creature – there were several places where brush had been definitely moved out of the way – albeit without benefit of tool marks that she could see, so she still couldn't tell if it was an intelligent creator. But it was getting wider...

Another few yards and she stopped cold midstep, listening hard. There it was again! A muttering voice, and then a rhythmic pounding of rock on rock – far too purposeful to be weather or animal. Gripping her machete like a sword, she continued on, stepping soundlessly on the moss.

She could see a clearing ahead; a wide rock apron at the base of a sharp cliff. As she crept closer, she could make out the entrance to a cave in the cliff, and before it, a small, smoldering fire.

And there he was. Crouched near the fire, working over a small, dead animal, apparently beginning to skin it with a sharp stone, dressed in the same odd brown clothes – albeit now tattered and torn, his hair long and tangled, a scraggly beard covering his jaws, but yet... undoubtedly the Doctor.

She stood not twenty feet away from her father, not trying to be quiet, staring. He didn't look up, though surely she was in his field of vision, surely the sounds of her harsh breathing must have penetrated. Again she caught his voice, muttering off and on as if carrying on a conversation with someone only he could hear, though she couldn't quite make out the words.

Finally, she couldn't stand the silence. "Dad?"

No reply, no reaction at all. She tried a louder voice. "_Dad?"_

"Go away."

She blinked. This was the last reaction she'd expected.

"Dad, it's me. It's Jenny."

He scoffed, exasperated, and finally glanced up, shooting her a glare from under his wild hair. "Duh." He went back to his crude skinning.

"Dad..." She didn't know what else to say, but he cut her off.

"Look, _she_ can stay," he said angrily, pointing his stone cutter at an empty boulder a few feet away, "but I don't want anybody else. Now go _away!_"

Finally, the muttered half-conversation started to make sense. He _was_ talking to somebody – but that somebody wasn't really there. _He must think I'm a hallucination, too!_ She carefully stepped closer – on the side away from the rock cutter – and crouched down. "Dad, I'm real. It's really me."

Obviously he didn't believe her. He shook his head violently, continuing to hack at his intended dinner. She started to reach out to touch his arm, but he forestalled her, giving that arm a tremendous swipe as if to wipe her away like mist.

A swipe that ended quite abruptly, as it collided shockingly with her very solid midsection.

The Doctor froze, stupefied, staring out the corner of his eye at his own hand, touching real flesh for the first time in years.

After a few seconds, she gently put her hand on his forearm – and he gasped as if his lungs had been empty for hours. "It's really me," she repeated, softly this time.

His eyes inched upward to her face, afraid of what he would see, then he gasped again and fell backwards away from her, scuttling a few feet away. His face was a tortured mask of disbelief, pain, and fear. He shook his head. "You _died_... You died in my arms."

"I'm your clone," she reminded him, still gently. "I'm a Time Lord – whatever else that means, it apparently means I can't die. Shortly after you and the ladies left, I came to. Stole the captain's launch and started traveling." A tear escaped, and he watched it fall. "I never thought I'd see you again."

She started to reach a hand to him, offering physical proof of her existence, but he shook his head again, scuttling back until he fetched up against the cliff, staring. She let him be, her hand dropping with a sigh, then she picked up the animal he'd been skinning and went to work with her own knife, pulled out of her boot sheath. A few skillful slices and it was fur-free, and went on the waiting skewers and over the fire to cook. Then she stood and stepped over to the tiny waterfall beside the cave entrance to wash her hands and the knife – and filled the crude wooden bucket there, as well, bringing it back to the fire with her. Shrugging off her small pack, she opened it up and fished out a couple of ration bars (the good ones, from Pavian IV), opening their packages and laying them out on two of the waiting dinner-plate-sized leaves beside the fire. She also pulled out the fruits she'd snagged that day from her pocket, showing them to the Doctor to ask if they were edible. At his jerky nod, she deftly cut them in half, tossing away the pit and laying the halves on the leaves. By that time the scrawny animal was done (there was really very little meat on it), so she pulled it off the skewers and divided it between the leaves as well.

He'd hardly blinked as he watched her, his rock-roughened hands clutching spasmodically at the moss. She picked up his leaf and brought it to him, kneeling before him to offer it with a pleading look. Saying nothing, she simply held it out to him.

Hands visibly trembling, he slowly reached out and took it – then reached further with one hand to clutch hers, gasping. "Jenny?" His voice was ragged, wanting to believe but not yet quite daring to.

She nodded again. "Yes. Dad, it's really me. Jenny, the 'generated being', your clone-soldier-daughter from Messaline." She was prepared to say more, but he put his leaf down to reach with the other hand too and pull her in close, holding her tightly to his heaving chest, his single, very last chance of sanity and salvation.


	17. Changes

**Changes**

_Bora Bora, Pete's World_

The Doctor sighed, staring out over the crystal blue waters lapping at their bungalow beach. "It still took Jenny a few weeks to convince me to go with her. I didn't want to. I'd decided that if I couldn't die, I was just going to live out eternity there in that jungle, so I would never endanger another living being again. I never wanted to see another person have to pick up a weapon, or sacrifice themselves, or get hurt in any way because of me. I... I still don't. Rose... I can't _stand_ the thought."

Rose could hear the torture in his voice, but above all, wanted him to keep talking, so she backtracked to the safer topic. "What finally convinced you to go with her?"

After a few beats, he turned his head to gaze at her, a tiny wry smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. "You did. You stopped talking to me. You just sat there staring at me with those huge brown eyes. And after a while I realized... I knew all along that you were an illusion, a hallucination. Somehow over the years – however long it was – I'd kind of let that knowledge drop, and let myself play at believing you were real. But that silence... it made me realize, rather forcefully, that it was just my own mind playing tricks on me, and telling me things that were buried in my subconscious. And at that point, it was telling me that deep down inside, I didn't really want to be alone anymore. When I realized that, and consciously faced the possibilities of endless centuries of solitude, I panicked. She'd left the cave a couple of days before, gone back to the TARDIS and her ship, saying she was leaving one way or the other, and I raced after her. She was there, waiting." He gave a small, rueful laugh. "Just smiled at me and said, 'finally. I thought I was going to have to hike back in there again.' Stubborn thing. Reminds me of somebody else..."

Said somebody simply gave him her sweetest, most innocent smile, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "So you left with her and went a-traveling again?"

"Well, it didn't happen all that quickly. The TARDIS was still angry at me. She wouldn't let me touch her controls at all – still won't, in fact. She's Jenny's ship now. And it took me a while to teach Jenny how to connect with the ship and then learn the controls."

"Why didn't you just have her look into the ship's heart, like I did?"

He raised an eyebrow, significantly. "And look how that turned out. No, there's more to it than that. She did eventually look, and that's when the final connection between them was made, but it took some preparation first. And... to be honest... I wanted to make absolutely, one-hundred-percent certain that she was fully Time Lord, and it wouldn't just burn her up. I've gone through that twice too often now, and with the TARDIS refusing to answer me, there's nothing I could have done to reverse it if things had gone wrong."

She gave him a squeeze, signaling her sympathetic understanding, and he sighed. "But she did, finally, and it all worked out. She made the connection to the TARDIS. And then we put her little ship into storage inside the TARDIS, and started traveling." He fell silent, staring moodily out over the water again, while Rose watched his profile. Finally, she tickled him lightly in the hollow of his shoulder, and he came to himself again, half-turning and sliding further down to rest his head on her shoulder, slipping that arm around behind her waist.

"It wasn't the same," he admitted. "It's never been the same since. I haven't... I can't..." They were back to the sticky part, and this time she let him have the reins, carefully picking his path between the mental and emotional landmines.

"The joy is gone," he whispered. "I tried so hard to find it. But without you..." He sighed, and the hitch gave the exasperation away. "I did find it, truly, after you slipped off the lever and Pete saved you, with Martha and then with Donna, even though they weren't you, and never could be, and both of them knew it. You knew that, didn't you? That they knew your name, and that I kept seeing you in every corner?" She nodded. Corin had told her – but the Doctor didn't need to know that detail. He went on, "Those were happy times, even so. They were. Not as happy as with you, but still... But... After losing you again, and what happened after that... It's just not been the same. It's not Jenny's fault. Not at all. It's me." He sighed again. "She's been such an angel all these years, putting up with me."

After a moment, he snorted softly, and added, "And you. You didn't leave me, you know. The hallucination of you, I mean. Not for a long, long time. You – it faded over time, but it took a long time to do it. I still see you in the corners sometimes, but you don't talk to me any more."

Another voice came back to Rose: Jenny, speaking at their kitchen table on the Night of the Miracle. "You're... _there_. Everywhere. A ghost that no-one can see but him." How right she had been... She remembered the next thing Jenny had told them of: her locket, around his neck. She touched it now, still in its place, and he felt it and looked up at her.

"I never have asked you," he said softly. "I'd... really like to keep it. It means so much to me. Please?"

"Of course," she replied, and sealed it with a kiss. "But where did you get it?"

He told her then of returning to see her that New Years Eve, the one before she'd met the old him for the first time. She tried, but had to admit she didn't remember the drunk in the shadows, and he smiled, forgiving her. "I didn't want you to remember me, it would have set up a serious time echo for you when I regenerated into this face."

"And that would have been bad?"

"Possibly. You never know, with humans. Not that you don't have many other wonderful qualities!"

She laughed at that, letting him off the hook, then leaned over and kissed his nose. "And don't you forget it, Cor- I mean, Doctor!" She blushed, shaking her head, and bit the bullet. "Sorry."

"Uh, yeah. No offense, but I think I'd really prefer it if you didn't call me that any more. Seeing's how _he_ took it." He sighed. "Blimey."

She laughed again, softly. "I know. It's horrible! Now I don't have a special name to call you any more! I can't even pronounce your true name."

A beat, then he gave her a supremely puzzled look. "I thought you were calling me that, though, to get me out of the mirrors."

"Corin gave it to me," she told him, pointing to her temple to make her meaning clear. "And I just echoed it on."

"Ah," he replied, satisfied – if a bit rumpled at the reminder of her previous Life Bond with his twin. He settled his head back down on her shoulder, trying to squelch the automatic jealous twinge.

She sensed it, though, and gave his forehead a smooch. "No matter, love. I don't care what your name is, I'll still love you forever."

He came to complete stillness, blinking, then slowly raised his head. "What did you say?" His tone was sharp, bewildered.

She looked at him and laughed, dismissing it. "Never mind."

"No, Rose, I'm serious. Whatever you said, it was NOT what I heard. Please, what _did_ you say?"

Still laughing ruefully, she acquiesced. "I said, I don't care what your name is, I'll still love you forever."

If she'd thought that would soothe him, she was mistaken. He sat further straight, pulling away from her, staring with a shocked expression. Then he looked all around, as if making sure they were alone. "OK, _that_ was weird," he finally commented.

"What?" _Should I be getting worried?_

"Um..." he began, then rubbed his forehead. He swung his feet around off the side of the chaise and sat up straight, causing her to protest, but he leaned over and gave her a quick, apologetic kiss. "Bear with me for a couple of minutes, love, it's a long explanation." So she sat back and gave him her best "I'm listening" expression.

"First," he began again, "you know – or maybe you don't – that I've been hanging around with people from roughly your time period on Earth for so many centuries that I basically even _think_ in English now – at least ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-eight percent of the time. And the TARDIS, when she translates other languages for me, translates them _to_ English. Except that every once in a very great while, for usually very strange and obscure reasons, she'll put a word in Gallifreyan, instead."

"And you just heard something in Gallifreyan?" guessed Rose.

"Right. But the TARDIS is nowhere around. So I really... don't know how it happened."

"What did you hear?"

He left off looking around again for the blue box, and took a deep breath. "Part two. My true name," and he reeled off the syllables verbally (causing a shiver of excitement to course down her spine), "is actually a – well, phrase I suppose is the closest word, in Old High Gallifreyan, which, as you might guess, is the ancient formal language of my people, not spoken commonly for millennia. But it can be translated into several different words in common Gallifreyan, with very different meanings, one of which is... mathurin. And _that_ can be translated, in turn, into several different words in English, one of which is... forever."

Rose leapt ahead. "So when I said 'forever' just now, you heard 'mathurin'?"

He nodded. "If the TARDIS were here, and if she were speaking to me, I'd say it was a hint. Since she isn't..."

"It must be your subconscious hinting to you, instead. Like your hallucinations of me. You're not still seeing them here, are you?"

He blinked at the sudden sidetrack and shook his head. "No. Not since we've been here. But, Rose..." He dragged her back to the subject. "What do you think?"

She bit her lip. "I could call you Mathurin, you mean? My new private name for you?" Suddenly, for the first time in ages, she felt just the tiniest bit... shy.

He nodded, smiling almost equally shyly. "I'd like that."

Her smile grew, and kept growing, until it lit up the beach. "Me, too." Suddenly, the smile took on that special glint he'd only begun to recognize since their arrival on the island. "Come here, Mathurin..."

And he did, joyously.


	18. Part IV: Reunion

_**Part Four**_

_Soon within my tapestry along the rutted road  
He sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad  
It seemed that he had fallen into someone's wicked spell  
And I wept to see him suffer, though I didn't know him well_

_**Reunion**_

_In the present, on the way to New Gallifrey_

The Doctor sat back in his chair on Baby's bridge, absently watching Joshua work the controls, while his mind fled back through the years; years of pain and denial, self-torture and self-loathing, then, finally, the long slow years of clawing his way back up from the depths, always with his Rose at his side and as his goal. The past fifteen years on Serenity (had it _really_ been that long?), he'd managed to find a bit of the planet's titular condition for himself, but he still didn't feel ready to go a-traveling again.

He just didn't want to get involved. And he knew he would, inevitably – he was simply constitutionally incapable of walking away from danger or injustice. But every time he thought about it, he shied away, violently, from the equally-inevitable consequence: the damage, self-inflicted or otherwise, to some other living, thinking, intelligent being. He just couldn't face that, not yet. He was quite content to simply exist from day to day in their slice of paradise, raising their own family (though they were all drifting away, now), teaching the kids at the school, puttering around the farm. (That one trip back to fix the past was a necessary aberration; one he'd dreaded even as he did it, getting through each minute with gritted teeth and no sleep at all. He'd sometimes wondered how he took Junia Tonas' death so calmly, but then, that was one death that absolutely could NOT be laid at his doorstep by any stretch. That was Jack's doing, through and through. He'd not given the Doctor one iota of warning – perhaps on purpose. And besides, that was the death that Jenny remembered, albeit mistakenly, so that the making of it had been the act that returned the time stream to the right course, saving countless untold lives.)

He knew, deep down, that the problem was one of forgiveness. Rose had forgiven him a very long time ago. He also knew that, could he go back and ask it, even the dead littering his past would forgive him – most of them, anyway, the ones who mattered. And, yes, Rose had brought Tis'hania's message of forgiveness out of the disintegrating Time Lock, which he'd believed all these years had taken his mother's life. But still...

He couldn't forgive himself. Not for any of it. And he wasn't sure if he ever could.

Now, suddenly, this older Joshua had appeared from the future, with the life-altering news that Lady Tis'hania still lived, and wanted desperately to see him again.

It had happened so fast, he was still reeling. But there was no question at all of his not going. Part of him wanted to scream out, "Wait, stop! Let me absorb this!" but the other part knew that his decision would always be the same. Waiting would change nothing. So he rushed on in, just like he always had.

Suddenly the swaying stopped, and Joshua stood up from the pilot's seat, turning and nodding to the Doctor. They had arrived. The Doctor, breathing gingerly, climbed to his feet and nodded back, then closed his eyes, unable to watch. Rose took his hand and squeezed it, sending a wordless wave of love and support to him on their private telepathic link, and he quickly squeezed back, grateful as always, knowing he owed her everything.

Eyes still closed, he felt rather than saw Baby's walls _schloop_ away, and the scents and sounds of his long-lost homeworld hit his senses while the gentle breeze ruffled his hair. Joshua had told them the settlement was around the great-grandfather corin on the cliffs above Crystal Bay, so the enormous rustling of the tree on his left didn't surprise him. Ignoring someone calling out Joshua's name and the young Time Lord moving suddenly away in response, he lifted his chin, feeling the Gallifreyan sunlight warming his face – knowing he was delaying (never knowing he was mimicking Joshua's own reactions such a short time before on Serenity).

Finally, he forced his eyes open, taking in the corin on the left with a wistful smile of remembrance, then looking down at ground level and to the right, where he somehow knew they'd be.

_Mother!_ He didn't even consciously realize he'd used the familial word, rather than her name – something he hadn't done regularly in centuries. She was sitting on a crude bench a dozen steps away, staring at him past her hands held to her face, tears coursing down her cheeks. A small corner of his mind registered Corin and the other Rose sitting on either side of her, but his own eyes were laser-locked on hers.

After several endless frozen moments, she held out both hands to him... but he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, rooted to the ground where he stood with his soul in his eyes. Finally, she pulled herself off the bench (Corin standing quickly to help her up), and, slowly at first, walked over to her son. She didn't pause, but rushed the last few steps to throw her arms around his shoulders and pull him tightly to her.

And he finally wilted, taking her in his arms (like he hadn't done for centuries) and holding her back equally tightly. His torso shook with suppressed sobs; he didn't dare let them escape. Once they started, they might never stop. Ever.

Many long minutes later, they each got themselves under control again, and she pulled back slightly until she could look into his face. His tortured expression cut her to the bone, but she put a hand across his lips before he could speak. "Hush, Chethonal. You did nothing wrong. Ever."

He shook his head (dislodging her hand), whispering hoarsely, "I sent you back."

"As you had to. The lock would have been incomplete otherwise, and _he_ would have found a way to break it again." She didn't need to say the name Rassilon. "It was necessary, to save all of time, all of creation."

"But before? When I set the lock? I didn't know you hadn't made it out until it was too late. I should have stopped. I should have made sure you were safe."

"You had no time, and you couldn't have known what happened. Just as you left to go below, they called for the vote. Presonne and I knew we had to stay behind then, to drag it out and delay, to give you the time you needed. Otherwise, _he_ would have set the events in motion before you ever reached the Eye. Again, it was necessary."

This time, he visibly objected to her use of that word to describe her own hellish imprisonment, but again she forestalled him with a hand. "Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left to go below?"

Startled, he shook his head.

"You said, 'it's either me, or all of existence. Good trade, as far as I'm concerned.' Chethonal, I never doubted or disagreed. It was me, instead of you. Still a good trade. I never shirked or held it against you. Never. And I forbid you to continue holding it against yourself. Such guilt is nonsensical." Her mouth quirked, and then she drew herself up even straighter, somehow gathering around her all the ancient aura of her former calling of TruthSeeker, which disregarded the rags she wore and their primitive surroundings as easily as a fly. He'd always, always, been just a little bit afraid of her in that aspect, and that childhood fear instantly returned full force, as she knew it would. "I forbid it. Do you hear me, Doctor?" Her switch to his chosen public name from her nickname for him as a boy, "Little Man", underscored her point.

He reacted automatically, his spine and neck straightening like a rod, while he fought through the old fear – and it vanished like tissue paper. He wasn't a child any more, after all. His mouth quirked back. "I hear you, Lady." The twitch gave the lie to the formal reply, and she saw it – but she also saw the humor behind it, and knew the danger was past. Tender again, she touched his cheek. "I forgave you a very long time ago. Did you not get my message?" and she smiled past his shoulder at Rose, standing a few feet back, who gave her sunrise smile in return.

The Doctor smiled at last. "Yes, I got it. But hearing it in person and hearing it from someone else are two different things."

"Then hear it again, my son, from the source. You are the best of Gallifrey. And I am so proud of you. Still, and always."

^..^

_*Corin?*_

Back at the bench, Corin came to himself with a jerk at his bondmate's mental nudge, realizing he'd been staring with a startled, supremely puzzled expression. He looked at his wife, seeing instantly he'd not get away with dissembling, and bit the bullet. _*How long did Joshua say they'd been in the other world?*_

The question surprised her, but she had the answer. _*Fifteen years?*_

He nodded. _*And eighteen months on Bora Bora before that, so it's been sixteen or seventeen years for her since you split?*_ She nodded, puzzled too now, but at him, and he sighed. _*Forgive me, love, I know it's probably not very kind of me to point this out, but... she hasn't aged a day.*_

Startled, Rose jerked her head back around and stared across at her twin. He was right. While she, herself, showed (gracefully!) the twenty-one years that had passed in her life since the Night of the Miracle, the other Rose did not have a single line or wrinkle, not a single added pound. Her face was precisely the same, youthful visage she'd worn the night she left.

_*How?*_

_*I have absolutely no idea, love. None.*_

She sighed, hugely. _*That is so unfair...*_ And he turned his head away to hide a smile.

The Doctor, glancing over, caught them both staring and gave them a quizzical double-take, so they smiled and went to join the trio. Corin's Rose, typically, dove right in. "We were wondering about your beauty secrets," she said to her twin. "You haven't aged a day since we split – literally."

Both newcomers were taken aback, and the Doctor (and everyone else) looked back and forth between the two versions of Rose several times. "You're right," he admitted, startled. "I hadn't ever realized it." He glanced at Corin, *hearing* his twin giving her a psychic onceover. "No, she's completely human, by every scan I've done."

"That's _so_ unfair!" the 'older' Rose complained again.

"Well," the Doctor replied, fully aware he was taking his life in his hands but unable, as always, to stop his gob. "Look at it this way. At least you're not aging in double-time to make up for her."

She glared at him. "Keep that up, Doctor, and you're going to remember what it's like to be slapped."

He grinned, unrepentant – but swiftly changed the subject. "Uh, what were those alternate names? Marion and Rosita? Two Roses is too confusing."

"No-no-no-no-no-no! Not Marion." Corin was grinning ear to ear. Jumping to his wife's defense and soothing her twice-ruffled feathers in one go, he half-turned towards her and gave a formal introduction. "May I present Baroness Gallifrey?"

She blushed. "I'm gonna _kill_ you," she murmured. But she was smiling as she said it.


	19. Vondamelor

**Vondamelor**

"_Traveler!"_

Josh paused in the act of stuffing Baby into his pocket, turning to see Brandon walking swiftly towards himself, Rose and the Doctor as they arrived under the corin tree. His cousin's face was set, all professional concern. Not Brandon. Vondamelor, the Serenite – and intergalactic – Doctor of Medicine.

"I need the hospital, we've got sick people here!"

"How many beds?"

Vondamelor turned to the man behind him, the healer Dashok, who quickly replied, "A dozen are bedridden, three of them critical."

Nodding decisively, Vondamelor swung back to his cousin. "Just one level for now. Put it there, under the tree." Then, back to Dashok, "Bring them all here."

Dashok nodded, and both of them turned on their heels to begin transferring those currently ill with the Malaise, not waiting to watch the "hospital" set itself up.

Joshua tossed the blue ball to his feet again, swiftly drawing Baby's walls up and tossing them out, then dropped quickly into the pilot's seat, _whooshing_ the tiny ball to an open spot near the base of the corin. Jumping to the third console, he changed the chameleon circuit's setting to Stone Cottage, and then dropped the perception filter. Anyone watching that spot, rather than the Doctor's concurrent reunion with Tis'hania, would have seen a small, weathered hut of rough fieldstone spring up from nothing, immediately blending in with the surrounding colony by borrowing some of their wildflowers for its sod roof. They might have rubbed their eyes at seeing the narrow wooden door redraw itself into a wider double-door entrance, but then again, as Time Lords, they were probably used to that sort of thing.

Josh then pulled up the ship's schematics, and, communicating with the TARDIS through both electronic interface and their telepathic link, rearranged the lower decks, moving the storage and game rooms up and changing the entire bottom deck into interconnected hospital suites and medical laboratory – and moved Brandon's expanded lab and massive computer banks to the room just above the lab, with a hidden staircase between them. As an afterthought, he cleared the rest of that next floor out, as well, in case it should be needed for more beds – Brandon had said "for now".

He dashed out into the central atrium and down the spiral stairs, rapping at the handrail of the very last step, and Baby _schlooped_ the bottom spiral up and out of the way, denying access to all the upper levels to anyone wandering about. Standard security precautions; the Traveler had had some unpleasant experiences in his past with too-nosy visitors. He went through the entrance hall, pausing to pull down the bead curtain at the inner end to prevent the larriks from escaping, then swept open the two wooden doors and stepped outside just in time to greet the first patients being carried in on their pallets.

The next few hours were a blur of settling patients into rooms, setting up basic life support systems in response to each one's level of need, and running scans and collecting bio samples for tests. The pragmatic Gallifreyans who had carried them in sorted themselves out quickly, one remaining for each patient as companion and orderly, making their charge comfortable and assisting the three medics. Joshua had only a fraction of Brandon's medical training and knowledge, but enough to make him a fair hand at triage and basic care, while Dashok frequently had to pause to wipe away a manic, teary grin for the state-of-the-art facility and supplies after six frustrating years of only the most primitive of medicinal herbs. The fledgling New Gallifrey glassworks still struggling to develop optical glass for his vitally-needed microscope was rendered instantaneously obsolete; nobody cared one whit.

When they were certain all immediate danger had been averted in the critical cases and all the preliminary work had been done to begin diagnosing the Malaise, Josh left the other two huddled over test results and transported upstairs to begin a huge cauldron of stew for the patients, fortified with all the extra nutritional supplements his own body needed regularly, and set it over a low fire to simmer gently. Then, making a last quick round to make sure all was secure and settled, he wandered back outside to see what he'd been missing.

He found the entire population had gathered for a communal evening meal, spread around the firepits and seating groups scattered all around the corin – and Baby. They instantly quieted as he appeared in the doorway, and he gave a general status announcement, adding that the two Healers were hard on the case and smiling, which occasioned a collective cheer, and the general mood – already festive – climbed yet another notch.

Spying his extended family around the nearest firepit, Joshua ambled over, grinning. He walked up to Tis'hania, seated on a log bench, and took her hand with a formal air, saying, "I don't believe we have _ever_ been actually introduced, Lady – though I hope this lot has at least explained all the tortured relationships by now." She nodded, smiling, and he continued. "Do you remember me, from the breaking of the Time Lock? Rather a lot of time has passed for me since then. But I would never be able to forget you, even if we weren't related."

Tis'hania laughed, the lightest, happiest laugh she'd been able to feel in so very long. She patted the seat beside her, and he took it with a sigh for his sore feet. "Of course I remember you. The bravest, youngest Time Lord I've seen in centuries. The one who answered our call, and broke the Lock."

He dismissed that with a wave that encompassed both Romana, sitting on the other side of the fire, and ended at the Doctor, on his right. "It was a group effort. None of us could have done it alone – any of it." Collecting the Doctor's nod of agreement on that score, he then smiled directly at the former President, still stunning even in rags. "Hello again, Romana. Have you gotten the whole story, too?"

She laughed in turn at the reminder of the last thing she'd said to the newly-minted Time Lord there in the center of the Eye Vortex, that she wanted the whole story of his life if they ever met again. "How long _has_ it been for you?" she wanted to know.

Joshua shrugged. "Six decades? Something like that." At her puzzled glance around the fire, he nodded. "Longer for me than for them. I've taken a little tuck in time, to bring each of them here at the right moment for them – the moment I remembered."

Romana raised her eyebrows at that, but Corin snorted softly. He gave 'the Baroness' a wry look. "What was that I was saying about causal time loops?"

"Well, at least he fielded that one," she replied through a sympathetic grin, and he rolled his eyes with a grimace.

"Speaking of time loops, though," the Doctor began thoughtfully. "This question has been driving me nuts." His glance took in each of the colonists at the fire (including Presonne, Romana's two girls, and one or two others), landing finally on Romana. "How did you all get _here?_"

After some spirited discussion of the observable facts and phenomena, the Doctor leaned back again. "OK, how about this? We know the targeted force fields inside the Council Chamber kept the Time Lock from taking full effect there, though it did have some effect. And we know the remaining Council began sending your help signal out telepathically through some kind of sense-able barriers, apparently the Void between the parallel worlds. I wouldn't be surprised if it penetrated into other worlds, as well, but we'll probably never know. At least I hope not. I think that the Lock kept all the continuous energy production from the Eye and the other stars within the nebula bending back in upon itself, in turn reinforcing the Lock itself. But all that energy had to go somewhere. I think that your signal caused minute cracks in the Lock as it penetrated the Void, and some of that entrapped energy followed – much like lightning follows the path of super-ionized particles from cloud to ground. And just like lightning actually strikes not once, but several times within a single second, several different cracks appeared over time along that path between the worlds. Joshua's and Rose's transportation between were a side effect, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"OK," Romana said slowly. "I think you've got something. But that last crack was much, _much_ longer in duration – almost three hundred of us ran through it. It was a different sort of doorway."

"Well, I'd wager that the collapsing Lock was what pushed that one open in front of the wave, like water under pressure escaping through any weakness in a rubber hose. The hole will stay open as long as there's water pressure to hold it. The final crashing of the wave on the Chamber itself is what closed it, by releasing the last of that pressure."

They fell silent, considering, then Romana summed it up. "No way to know for sure, but that sounds as logical as anything." She glanced slyly across at her old nemesis. "You've gotten smarter over the centuries, Doctor."

He shrugged elaborately, hiding how that accolade from his former, unwilling, sarcastic, arrogantly superior companion had pleased and mollified him. "Well, it was bound to happen sometime."


	20. More Bad News

**More Bad News**

The fires were dying out, and the colonists slowly drifting away to bed. The Doctor's fire still had most of its contingent, as they all wanted to spend as long as possible catching up and basking in each other's presence after so long apart.

Not all the news was good. 'Rosita' (she had refused 'Mama Rose') had been devastated to learn of Pete and Jackie's deaths a few years before, and had fallen silent after that, holding her bondmate's hand and leaning her head on his shoulder. Knowing it would take her time to process the news and mourn her parents, the others gently let her be.

Sighing, Romana began guiltily gathering up her already-sleeping daughters, 'the Baroness' offering to help carry. Just then, a familiar mental voice broke in on Joshua's thoughts. _*Josh? Who's left with you?* _It was Brandon, still inside Baby with Dashok.

Josh ticked off the group, _*Mum and Dad, the Doctor and Rose, Tis'hania, and Romana and her girls.*_

_*Perfect. Bring them inside, please. Quietly.*_

He raised an eyebrow, but leaned forward to capture everyone's eyes. "Could I offer you a comfortable bedroom for the night? All of you? There are enough extra rooms in the TARDIS." The nearest people were a few yards away, but he still dropped his voice to a near-whisper, tapping his temple surreptitiously. "The Healers have requested our presence."

Romana recovered first, smiling at her host. "Thank you, that would be lovely. And I'd like to look in on the patients before I retire, too." So they gathered themselves up and drifted inside the "stone cottage".

The New Gallifreyans hadn't been inside her, yet, and they stopped short, gaping in delight at the huge tavorik tree soaring upwards inside the atrium. 'Rosita' stopped and gaped, too, before turning wide-eyed to Joshua. "You really _have_ been gone a long time. We just planted that tree a few days ago."

He nodded to her, grinning, then turned and looked up at the next balcony as Brandon's low whistle floated down from it. His cousin rapped on the railing, and Baby extended the spiral staircase back down, allowing the newcomers to climb up. Romana took a swift look around the floor, seeing all the lights turned down low; the patients were all abed already, their assistants tucked into the low couch in each room. As Brandon took the others on up to the kitchen on the top level, Joshua showed Romana and 'the Baroness' to a bedroom off the second-highest balcony, where they tucked the slumbering girls into a wide, soft bed, then joined the rest.

As she stepped onto the top level, a startled, wistful expression suddenly crossed Tis'hania's face. "Is that kefora I smell?" she asked plaintively. The lack of the Gallifreyan equivalent of tea (originating, like the riding beasts, on another continent) had been a constant, irritating thorn in her side since the day they'd arrived.

Dashok laughed gently at her. "Yes, it is. As soon as I found they had some, I brewed a pot especially for you. This ship is amazingly well-stocked!"

Romana, walking in a few minutes later to find her friend blissfully breathing in the aroma wafting from her mug in between contented sips, nearly pounced on the pot herself, and the group settled in around the huge dining table with the various beverages of their choice.

"All right, then," Romana fixed the two Healers with a serious expression. "Let's hear it."

Dashok deferred to the younger man, both as the owner of the facility and the possessor of a truly impressive degree of medical knowledge. He wasn't ashamed to admit the younger doctor far outshone him in experience; Dashok himself had spent his whole life on Gallifrey. Although their patients were all Gallifreyan, the cause of the Malaise they were suffering from had eluded Dashok, while Brandon, applying the knowledge gained from studying dozens of wildly different planetary biologies, had homed in on it rapidly.

Brandon took a deep breath, and laid it out, speaking directly to the two New Gallifreyan leaders. "The Malaise is an autoimmune disease. Put simply, your bodies are attacking themselves. And the underlying cause is Rassilon's Imprimatur, that special nucleus in your cells that allows you to manipulate time, among other things.

"Because you have no Eye of Harmony, no vortexes, no TARDISes, you have no supply of vortex particles. As you know, Dashok tells me, that's the reason you can't regenerate here."

The other listeners were shocked at that revelation. "You can't regenerate?" the Doctor asked his mother, sharply. She shook her head, but motioned back to Brandon for him to continue.

"Because of that lack of particles, as time went on and your bodies began producing new cells, like all bodies do continuously, those new cells began to be produced without the Imprimatur. For a while, everything is fine. But after a certain critical mass of those new cells is reached, your immune system is turning on itself. The antibody cells _with_ the Imprimatur begin attacking all the cells _without_ it, and vice versa – all at the same time. It's that battle that is making you so sick – and eventually proving fatal."

He paused to let them absorb that, and after a moment Romana spoke into the silence. "Are you telling us we will all get sick, if we haven't already?"

Brandon nodded sadly. "Everyone I've examined so far – and that's been all the helpers, as well as the patients, and Dashok as well – everyone has signs of the Malaise; cells with and cells without the Imprimatur, and varying degrees of the immune battle between them. I think it's inevitable as more and more of your individual cells get replaced; without the vortex particles being present during the process, the Imprimatur just doesn't get transferred. And sooner or later the two sides will recognize each other as 'foreign bodies', and the internal war begins."

"Will it always prove fatal eventually?"

He nodded. "I believe so."

"Is there a cure?"

He took another deep breath. "Only one _treatment,_" he carefully stressed the word change, "that I can come up with at the moment. And I can make absolutely no guarantees of its efficacy or permanence. We can use the vortex within this TARDIS to bathe an individual with vortex particles. But I honestly have no idea what will happen. It might stamp the Imprimatur on each of the new cells. Or it might remove it from the older ones.

"If it does the former, you'll be back where you started, and I don't know if a particle source will be reliably in your future. The Malaise could just come back in a few years.

"If it does the latter, the Malaise will be gone, but I don't know what other effects that will have, long- or short-term.

"Or it might do neither action, and do something else entirely, that may or may not solve the problem.

"Plus, it might or might not force a regeneration, and we all know, I think, how unreliable that process is. And who knows whether the new body will have the Imprimatur? Again, you could be simply starting from square one, with the same end result.

"Finally, I must stress that this treatment could likely be highly individualized, as well as utterly unpredictable. We could run a dozen different people through it and get a dozen completely different outcomes. At this point, I just don't know."

He fell quiet, shrugging his frustration at his lack of sure knowledge. Silence reigned around the table for many long minutes as the news was absorbed.

Finally, Tis'hania looked around at the others, and spoke into the silence. "Well. Quite a lot to think about. And it's quite late at night. Are the patients all settled and out of danger for the night?" Dashok nodded, and she continued, "Then I propose we all go to bed, as well, and sleep on it. If no other treatments become apparent by the morning, we will announce to everyone where we stand, and let each one make their own informed decision. I rather suspect that we'll find out tomorrow what the true outcomes of this treatment will be – which will only make further decisions easier. It's the unknown that's frightening."

The Doctor snorted softly. When the others looked curiously at him, he smiled ruefully. "The Time Lords always liked to think of themselves as different from everyone else in the universe. But in this one thing, fear of the unknown, we are _exactly_ like everyone else. And always have been."

^..^

Tis'hania was right on all counts. The colonists gathered around the TARDIS the next morning, the current patients being brought out to sit in the sunshine and listen as well, and Brandon again laid out the cause of the Malaise and the only available treatment (no other answers having magically appeared overnight). A long, open discussion time ensued, sometimes in small groups, sometimes _en masse_, but the end result was (probably) inevitable, with every one of the currently-ill sufferers electing to try the vortex particle bath.

Joshua had spent several hours through the night in communion with Baby, doing the best he could to communicate the colonists' predicament and need. He could never be certain how well the sentient coral understood, but she at least agreed to open up the chamber holding the vortex and allow the particles out to bathe them.

So after Brandon spoke with each patient, making sure (in front of witnesses) that each one fully understood the uncertainties and agreed to the risk, he brought them one by one up to the tiny bridge, and the chamber was duly opened for a minute while Brandon, Dashok and Joshua waited anxiously out on the balcony. Everyone else was kept outside the TARDIS altogether.

Miraculously, the outcomes were far less random than predicted. Each of the twelve, examined immediately after their particle path, was found to have had the Imprimatur removed from every cell, and only five of the twelve regenerated. Those five were physically the eldest of the lot, and had been suffering the various complaints of aged bodies long before the Malaise had struck them; their new bodies were each physically quite a bit younger, making them among the youngest of the adults. The remaining seven, already younger and healthy but for the Malaise, were content to remain as they were.

When the results were revealed to the crowd outside, a cheer arose, and many others crowded forward to "take the cure", but Romana halted the proceedings abruptly. Not everyone had been pleased with this outcome; she'd heard the vague grumbles from the rear.

"I want everyone here to take at least one day to consider their choice carefully. I know we've had six years to come to terms with the facts of our new lives, here on this primitive version of our beloved Gallifrey, so far removed from all the trappings of our Time Lord past, but this step is irrevocable. We have no idea what lies in our future, which direction we can go, now that we have a possible means of transportation." Many of the audience were startled at that; they hadn't allowed themselves to realize those ramifications of the TARDIS' appearance.

"Can you return us to _our_ Gallifrey?" came a voice from the crowd.

Joshua stepped forward past the Doctor, who'd automatically begun to react, pushing him gently back with one hand. Josh had been in the old neighborhood, the Doctor hadn't. He knew the truth.

"No," he said with finality, pitching his voice so everyone could hear. "The Gallifrey of the past is locked, forever out of reach. I know, I've tried. This TARDIS cannot reach it; none can. And the Gallifrey of the present, after the Time Lock was broken, is naught but a dead cinder. There is nothing to return to."

An angry muttering arose from the rear, but Romana sent a glare that direction and they quieted. "The past is done; there is no returning to it. We must deal with the present, and the future. We must decide – as best we can – how that future will look."

As the next few days passed, many did take the particle bath, and many of them – always the aged – regenerated as a result. All of the bathers came out of it _sans_ Imprimatur. But not everyone stepped into Baby for their turn.

(Another operating arena was set up and ran simultaneously, to remove the blasted birth control devices that had so thoroughly stymied their earlier attempts at procreation. "I'm so looking forward to catching a whole crop of babies in a few months," Dashok grinned at Brandon. Sure enough, the pregnancy announcements began coming within days.)

^..^

About three days later, Brandon asked for another meeting, this time with only Tis'hania and Lady Romana. His use of her title alerted them both to the seriousness of the matter, and the look on all their faces when they emerged from the closed-door session an hour later caused whispers of impending doom to race through the colony. As it was nearly evening already, and everyone had returned from their far-flung daily activities, Romana spread the word for an immediate council around the corin.

As soon as they had all gathered, Romana rose to her feet and faced them, pitching her voice so it would reach the majority while simultaneously sending her words through the telepathic net. "My friends, as you have guessed, we have more bad news to share with you." She gestured for Brandon to speak, and sat abruptly on her stool.

Brandon stood and copied her use of voice and telepathy. "As you all know, I've collected DNA samples from every one of you, and fed the data into my computers, along with all the demographic data. I've been running analyses of that data ever since, repeatedly. Unfortunately, it keeps giving me the same results, every time.

"To put it baldly, there simply aren't enough of you now to establish a healthy, permanent, continuously-growing population. Not even if every one of you had dozens of children, to a different co-parent each time. The remaining gene pool simply isn't wide enough, regardless of how thoroughly you might try to mix it.

"And that's not even counting disasters, illnesses, or any of the other million and one things that can and will go wrong and wipe out a single, small colony, one with no lines of support, resupply, or additional people, such as this one."

"I'm sorry. I'm truly, very sorry."


	21. A New Direction

**A New Direction**

Stunned silence reigned over the collected colony for many long minutes, before a despairing, desperate growl began sweeping through. "You mean this has all been for _nothing_?" came an angry shout from the rear. "We're all going to die here?" wailed a woman from the side.

Romana sat stone-faced for several minutes, letting them get past the initial shock, before she rose again and held up a hand for silence. She'd lost just enough of her gravitas over the past six years that she didn't get it instantly, but she did get it. "The very first night of our arrival on New Gallifrey, I reminded you of a very old saying: where there's life, there's hope. I am not about to give up, not on life. Not on my daughters' lives. Nor on the idea of beginning a new civilization. I still hold hope that Brandon's computers are wrong, and that we can indeed get through this genetic bottleneck and re-establish our people, here in this alternate universe.

"Yes, here. There's no going back to the old one. Gallifrey is gone. There's no use returning to that universe to go elsewhere. No groups of Time Lords survived to plant colonies anywhere else; the Daleks destroyed all." (The Doctor, who had more reason to know than anyone, had assured her of that a few days earlier in one of their private talks.)

"But I think we need to face the other facts we've just heard. We're out here all alone, with no support, no supplies. And while civilizations have indeed arisen from just such circumstances, such tiny initial colonies in the wilderness, countless more have failed. We truly have no backup plan, nowhere to turn if – when – disaster strikes."

She took a deep breath, choosing her next words carefully. "I therefore propose to you all that we consider, as a group, the possibility of picking up and moving elsewhere, and beginning again on some planet where we _can_ find assistance and support.

"As Time Lords, we removed ourselves from universal society, living aloof and apart for millennia. But we are no longer Time Lords. And we can no longer afford to maintain that self-imposed exile. To put it simply, we need to begin making friends. Our very survival as a species depends upon it."

She paused to let them consider, and a woman rose a few ranks back rose to her feet. "You mean for us to abandon New Gallifrey altogether and move to another planet? One that's already inhabited, and try to _make friends_ with those inhabitants? To become pitiful refugees, begging for charity?"

Romana drew breath to protest her choice of words, but another voice came from one side. "Not refugees." The visitors had gathered in a small knot out of the way, not part of either the leadership nor the citizens. Now in the middle of that knot arose Lady Rose Gallifrey, the dawning light of idea setting her face aglow. "Not refugees. Colonists. As you are now. But this time, as part of a much larger group effort at colonizing an entirely new, uninhabited planet. Plenty of room for all, to grow and establish a vital, healthy population."

Corin and Joshua gasped in unison as her meaning struck, and they shared a startled, ecstatic grin with each other before turning back to Rose. Corin named it, loud enough for all to hear.

"Pacifica?"

She turned to him and let loose her supernova smile. "Pacifica."

Joshua threw his head back and pealed laughter. "Oh, perfect! Baroness, I salute you. Oh, well done, madam!"

Romana stepped forward, breaking it up with a single word. "Pacifica?"

Swiftly, the three of them outlined their recent frenetic activities, helping to get the brand-new joint human and SenSaru colony established on the sparkling oceanic world they were to share. Corin continued the proposal: "There's literally an entire world of room – not a single individual claim has yet been staked. Two hundred additional people, a single village, wouldn't make the slightest dent. You wouldn't be refugees, begging for charity from an ancient civilization, asking them to make room for you, but co-colonists, sharing the struggles with thousands of others of like mind and spirit. But it would instantly provide you with the support and supplies you need to survive. And who knows what answers you may yet find? A number of Earth scientists have already dedicated themselves to finding the answers to the SenSaru population bottleneck. What's another species in the mix?"

The excitement was contagious, but there were huge reservations, which boiled down to just one. "But to leave Gallifrey?"

"How can we just step off into the unknown, leave behind everything we know, every bit of familiarity from the smallest plant to the very stars in our sky, and simply move at once to a new planet, sight unseen, that none of us have ever set foot on?" The anonymous voice from the crowd summed it up for all.

"Who said anything about sight unseen?" Joshua piped up. "That happens to be a TARDIS sitting there, with room enough for all of you for a short trip. Why don't we all just go take a look?"

"_Road trip!"_ came Brandon's puckish whisper. _"Who's got the beer?"_

^..^

A surprisingly short time later, not quite two hundred souls were ranged around the various lounges, bedrooms, common rooms, and balconies of the four lowest levels in Baby; the entire current population of New Gallifrey (tragically reduced by the Malaise). After a quick conference with the leaders, Joshua made a rare use of the ship's internal loudspeaker.

"Attenci, attenci. We're going to have a slight delay before arrival. I'm jumping back five hundred years over Pacifica, and launching a climate-monitor satellite. Then we'll jump back to today, download and analyze the data, and pick out the perfect slice of Pacifica paradise for you. Please have something to hang on to; she's a pretty smooth ship but does have some sways and bumps. We'll make this as quick as possible."

Time jumps duly accomplished, the data was quickly crunched in one of Baby's many on-board computers, then displayed on a very large screen near the old-fashioned wooden slab of a kitchen table. The ten thousand islands of the largest cluster by far splashed across most of one hemisphere, as if poured down from the heavens onto the equator to scatter evenly on either side. Volcanoes – active and not, oceanic and atmospheric currents, common great storm pathways, earthquake faults, and temperature zones were all drawn in eye-catching colors, proving that no place was completely safe, but some – perhaps most – were more desirable than others.

For some reason, Tis'hania found her eyes being drawn repeatedly to one particular mid-sized island, a few degrees north of the equator, in roughly the center of that largest grouping. Fifty or so miles across, it featured a huge lagoon – visible even from space – on the leeward side, and it was far from any active volcanoes or hurricane paths. She asked Josh to enlarge the view, and was unaccountably pleased at the result. The crescent-shaped lagoon was guarded by the equivalent of a coral reef, making it a fisherman's paradise, while a rocky spine of peaks sheltered that side of the island from the satellite-reported occasional massive winter cold fronts.

She turned to the others gathered around and smiled. "Any objections?"

Josh grinned at the resulting silence, and sent the coordinates of the low hill along the northern curve of the lagoon to the nav computer.

^..^

Joshua opened the double doors with a flourish, bowing the first in line out of the TARDIS and onto the grassy hillside overlooking the spectacular rocky bay. The Gallifreyans slowly fanned out, tentatively exploring their proposed new home with its topsy-turvy colors. The sky was a disturbingly deep blue-green instead of tawny orange, the grass was green rather than red, and the sand along the shoreline was white instead of blue! All in all, everything was shifted to the cooler end of the spectrum from their home world. Most of those present had never set foot off of Gallifrey before that day; the new colors were going to take some getting used to.

Corin and Lady Rose (she'd decided she liked that better than the repeated use of 'Baroness', although truthfully she didn't deserve either one officially yet) were showing off their admittedly scant familiarity with Pacifica to their respective twins, while Dashok, Brandon, and a few others of a scientific bent were collecting soil and plant specimens for analysis, to make sure their own crops would thrive but that nothing overly toxic to Gallifreyan biology was present.

Josh merely stood near Baby and watched with a contented smile. A few feet away, Tis'hania was doing the same, drinking in the strange sunlight caressing her face and watching and listening to the seabirds high above squawk their discontent at the unprecedented invasion into their territory. Suddenly Josh saw her swing her head around sharply and peer down towards the waves lapping the sand.

"Lady?"

A moment's hesitation, and she shook her head, relaxing. "It's nothing. I thought I heard something, but its gone now, whatever it was." She turned and gave him a happy smile. "Thank you, grandson. This is truly everything you promised."

He grinned, then looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot as he stepped closer. "Can you keep a secret?"

She chuckled at the question. "I'm a TruthSeeker, Joshua – or I used to be. That's Gallifreyan for Yes, I can."

"The reason I know about this planet is because I stopped off here on the way 'home', about five thousand years into the future from now. I give you the same promise I gave both the humans and the SenSaru. Pacifica will grow, and thrive, and become one of the centers of intergalactic culture in that future – yet never lose its unspoiled beauty. The citizens will forever keep their reputation for fairness, respect, and intelligence. I cannot promise what part Gallifreyans will have in that future; at the time I had no idea you were even here in this universe. But I swear to you... this is your best chance." He'd grown serious as he spoke, but suddenly the grin slipped back on. "But I _can_ tell you that on this very spot in that far-off future will stand one of the most beautiful little cities I've ever seen in my life – and I've seen a LOT of cities in my years." Suddenly he stopped, a different slice of memory visibly playing behind his eyes, and a look of startled recognition.

"What is it?" she brought him back mentally.

"And it's going to be full of corin trees," he whispered reverentially. She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth underneath suddenly tearing blue eyes. "I didn't know what they were at the time, because I'd never seen one before. Now that I have... I'm certain of it. They were corins. Enormous great-grandfather trees of weeping silver leaves, everywhere, giving the city its name: Silverleaf Bay."


	22. Second Homecoming

**Second Homecoming**

Tis'hania and Joshua kept that brief glimpse of the possible future to themselves, and were careful never to consider the move to Pacifica a foregone conclusion. And indeed, it took several weeks of contentious nightly debates around the corin to even bring it to a vote. A small but adamantly vocal minority of objectors kept the question fermenting angrily; frequently bringing Romana (among others) to the brink of lashing out in frustration.

Finally, though, she called for a formal vote, and the move was approved by an overwhelming majority. The objectors, led by Kaphir (the former Lord Councillor who had forced the vote for colony leadership the very first day on New Gallifrey), pragmatically threw in the towel and began – grudgingly – doing their part in the planning and preparations. Romana kept a sharp eye on the group going forward, however, prepared for further difficulties.

Since it was already early autumn in Hope Village, close to the harvest, they elected to move in stages as the garden and field crops ripened and were brought in. In a piece of perfect timing, their destination island was just beginning its long spring (although at that latitude, 'winter' was semantics rather than snow; they could look forward to year-round growing seasons from now on), so the first wave of settlers immediately began preparing the new garden plots. The seeds harvested on New Gallifrey that fall were therefore replanted on Pacifica within days; the results from the bio-tests being amazingly positive all the way around. (Only two plants of over a hundred gathered that day on Pacifica had proven even mildly toxic to the Gallifreyans; the soil itself was close enough that they hoped their crops would thrive with enough extra care.)

Shortly after the initial visit to the ocean world, Corin and Lady Rose had reluctantly asked Joshua to return them home, to the same evening they'd left. They didn't want to 'miss' any of their lives on Earth, but didn't want to get too far out of sync, either. He jumped ahead to the concurrent time to 'meet' them again, and left them with a Baby-linked superphone so they could keep in touch. As soon as the vote was taken and the decision officially made to move, he called them with the news.

"Fantastic!" Rose replied. "I'm on it." Since she had immediate access to those officials planning the colony for both homeworlds, it was an easy task to 'reserve' one quadrant of one island, and soon reported back that the action had brought the unintended side effect of affixing her surname, Gallifrey, to the entire isle. When word of that naming spread among the New Gallifrey colonists, it oddly soothed them, making the new world already seem a squidge less 'alien'; a skoosh more like 'home'.

Joshua spent most of his time helping his grandmother prepare and move, but as time went on, she began to suspect that she was at least partly an excuse, although she wasn't at all sure whether he realized it himself. But whenever her 'cottage-mate' walked in, or the girls tagged along with "Tis" and "Josh" rather than Mum, his eyes lit up. She also noticed Romana herself walking with a lighter step, smiling and laughing more often – and sometimes making an excuse to come home from whatever work detail she was on a little earlier (or rather, on time rather than late as was her habit).

Only once did Josh's mask slip, as he watched five-year-old Tasheira playing with her sister after dinner; a sad, haunted look stole fleetingly across his face. "Josh?" Romana called softly. He glanced quickly at her, almost began to dissemble – and then stopped himself with a sad smile.

"She reminds me of my son, sometimes. He was just that age when we lost him to a sudden illness."

"Oh." For once, she was at a loss for words. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. And your mate?"

He shook his head. "She left." Then he took a deep breath and changed the subject, but Tis'hania caught Romana watching him thoughtfully at times after that.

^..^

Soon after the vote, the entire colony paid another visit to their new home, carefully surveying the area around the bay and selecting the new town site. They chose the level plain just back from the north-western quadrant of the bay's shoreline, well above the five hundred year high-tide mark, on the northern bank of one of the two small rivers that ran down from the central hills into the bay. Again, they decided on the ancient "ring of rings" pattern for their cottages, this time laying them out in a full circle around a central village common. With great solemnity and highest hopes, a corin sproutling was carefully planted in the center of the new common, and no less than three individuals officially charged with jointly caring for it.

Baby made quick work of surveying the site, and when the data was downloaded into several handheld devices linked back into her computers, setting stakes for the corners of every house was the job of an afternoon. Then came the task of transplanting the houses one by one. Baby had never been used as a barge before, and it took a bit of jiggery-pokery, but finally the Doctor and Joshua worked out the methods and details, and convinced Baby she could do it. Joshua returned Baby to her blue ball configuration and dropped her in the center of the house (empty of everyone else), then extended her force fields out to the outer walls before carefully _whooshing_ to the site on Pacifica, marked before-hand with four pieces of gallinium at the stakes. He made a couple of practice runs with uninhabited houses (their owners having been taken by the Malaise), and it was a good thing he did, because the first arrived as a tumble of stones and earthworks, but he and the Doctor soon worked out the kinks. Before a quarter of the total were moved, he was bringing along all the home's furnishings, as well, reaching the destination without knocking a single pottery bowl off the shelves. In the end, they had him bring most of the now-empty houses, too, both to let the current population spread out a bit more (many were still sharing houses as they had in the beginning), and as a symbol of optimistic hope that their people would indeed thrive and multiply. (Not to mention welcoming 'immigrants' from the other two races which would be coming to Pacifica; they had no plans to remain aloof and apart, keeping everyone else out of their new town.)

People and varigoats continued to travel as passengers in Baby's lower decks. They decided to leave behind the rockrats and seabirds they'd captured and been raising in pens; the low-grade quality and primitive taste of the meat and eggs did not in the least mitigate against the possibility of the animals escaping into the wild and overrunning their new home. Instead, they planned to import a number of thoroughly-domesticated chickens and small beef cattle from Earth as soon as possible with Corin and Rose's help. Although they tasted a bit strange, the end results were close enough to their Gallifreyan equivalents to get used to, and tiny differences in nutrient values could be addressed in the future with some careful genetic manipulation. (Unbeknownst to the colonists beforehand, Corin also sent along a small herd of Welsh ponies in those first shipments that next year. The willing, playful mounts were an instant hit, and the Gallifreyans requested many more, establishing the bloodlines which in the centuries ahead would become the premier riding animals in the quadrant, let alone the planet.)

Varigoats, though, were deemed both safe enough and highly desired, especially for their fine wool. Enough had been captured and bred in the six years since their arrival that the spinning and knotting industries were taking firm root; everyone could now boast at least one warm winter varigoat-wool wrap. Now that winters would no longer be much of an issue, they could branch out into other uses for the fine, silky, non-scratchy wool. The knotters had been thrilled when Lady Rose realized she could supply them with both tools and patterns from Earth; that simple, minor point did more than perhaps any other single thing to tip the balance toward Pacifica and the support it implied.

^..^

At last, after months of planning and heavy labor, all was done. Joshua had even moved the old communal houses they'd built the first year, clustering them to one side of the village for use as grain storage and whatnot. Every seed and sapling, every stick and stone, every tool and basket, every piece of cloth or fur that could be useful on the new world had been transported.

Romana walked slowly through the patchwork of bare earth and knocked-over walls, ostensibly making a last sweep, but really just wandering in her memories. It had been a good six years, even with the tragedies and dashed hopes. Her daughters had been born here; the most precious beings in the universe – any universe. Now, her hopes for their futures had been reborn: a long, happy, fruitful life lay potentially ahead of them both. And that was the important thing.

She turned at last toward the old great-grandfather corin, walking slowly under the curtain and letting it trail across her upturned palms as she had done the day they arrived on the coast. She looked for the ancient campfire (which she now knew had been made by the two Doctors) but it had long been grown over, then turned to smile at Joshua and Brandon, gingerly climbing down out of the tree with two huge armloads of sproutlings to be planted and carefully tended on their new home.

"This isn't the last time you'll be here," Joshua reminded her again. "I'm not planning on stranding you any time soon. Baby and I can bring you back at any time, for any reason."

"I know. It's still a parting, a turning point. I don't know if my people will ever _live_ here again – and I don't really want to know. This much I've learned: live in the present. Make each day count. And never lose sight of what's important – what's right in front of you."

That was digging a little too far under the surface for comfort. She looked abruptly away, turning the motion into a long, last, sweeping look across the bay and then up toward the mountains, where, in another universe, their capital city had once stood, proud under its mighty dome: the Shining World of the Seven Systems.

Then she resolutely turned her back, and helped the men gather up the sproutlings. "Let's go."

^..^

That same evening in their new new world, the colonists gathered on the grassy bench above the beach for a barbecue and feast, celebrating the inaugural occurrence of their new yearly holiday, to be known forever as Arrival Day. Joshua had made a little surprise side trip, picking up Corin and Lady Rose especially for the occasion, and Donna _and_ Tyler, making it a grand family reunion, as well. The latter two were standing with their parents midway between the bench and the town, gaping around. Donna had been to Pacifica before, while they were still convincing the SenSaru; but this was Tyler's first trip ever off-planet.

Joshua swept them along downhill, meeting the Doctor coming up from the beach, who greeted them with "Have you seen Rose? Rosita?"

"Here I am!" came from behind them, and Lady Rose's twin came down the hill. Tyler had had time by now to get used to the idea of his parents' doppelgangers, so the introductions went a bit smoother than they might have a few months earlier.

As they turned to join the rest of the celebration below, the Doctor asked his bondmate where she'd been. "Taking a nap," she replied, cheerfully ignoring his startled glance. She never took naps. "I've just been feeling a little tired lately, and thought I'd take a snooze before the big night. Oh, stop it," she shushed him when she caught the look on his face. "I had the strangest dream, though. I was flying... or swimming, I'm not sure which. I wasn't really aware of my body, just a sense of movement. It was completely dark, except for these occasional colorful sparks of light whizzing by, and the air – or water, or whatever it was I was in, was both wonderfully warm and deliciously cool at the same time. It felt like I'd been there forever, and I just kept moving through this delicious darkness. I'm not sure if I was searching for something, but it seemed like I knew where I was going – but I never got there. At least, not before I woke up..."

Her voice trailed off, and the Doctor glanced to see her eyes unfocused, staring out at the nothing of her dream, as she walked along automatically, her hand tucked (as always) in his. He squeezed the hand, giving her a little "yoo-hoo" whistle, and she came to with a start, then gave him her dazzling smile. "I wouldn't mind having that dream again. It was incredibly peaceful."

He began to smile back, when suddenly he just _froze_ for an instant, then his head whipped around at lightning speed, and he shot away from the family towards the large knot of people ahead; irresistibly, unthinkingly pulled there by the almost-forgotten psychic scent from his deep, deep past that hit his senses with the shock of a nuclear explosion. He ran to the middle of the group, seeing them clustered loosely around an achingly familiar sight: a closet-sized, grey-green boulder (which hadn't been there a few moments before). The side had split into an impossible door, and in front of it, obviously having just exited the faux boulder, a tall, handsome man was staring around in incredulous, joyous – and exhausted – astonishment.

"I knew it!" He cried. "You _are_ my people! You're Time Lords! By the stars, I've found you at last! But how, why are you _here?_"

Before anyone could answer, his attention was captured by a young-looking man in brown casual clothes who had dashed up to come to a screeching stop a few feet away, his jaw dropping down in utter, supreme shock. On his face was a look of... _recognition?_

"Do I know you?" the stranger asked tentatively.

Of all the sights the Doctor had ever seen in nine-hundred-plus years of traveling; all the incredible, wordless joys; all the utterly unexpected surprises; nothing, _nothing_ had ever prepared him for this. He gulped, hard, and forced his mouth to work. One word, breathed out in a whisper, afraid that to say it any louder would cause reality to shatter.

"_Father?"_

The stranger's incredulous smile faltered, then widened even further, as he mentally reached for the Doctor's mind, finding the patterns of an impossibly long life, but underneath it all, at the core, was the familial scent he knew; that of his own long-lost son. "Corin?" he breathed the family name he'd solemnly pronounced as he held him up to the stars at his naming ceremony, one of the proudest days of his extensive life.

The Doctor began to reach out his hand, but then the other coin dropped, and he whipped his head around again, unerringly in the right direction, and stopped cold yet again. The stranger followed his gaze, and saw the one sight he'd longed for above all others, the hope of which had driven him on for all these centuries of accidental exile. Lady Tis'hania was standing a few yards away, hands to her mouth, tears already streaming down her beautiful face as she drank in the sight of her lost bondmate, the one she had refused to let go of – ever, singing at his state funeral that his name would echo through her soul beyond the end of time.

He walked to her with unsteady legs, crossing the last few feet on wings of fire – and then they were in each other's arms at long, long, impossibly long last.

Lord Datherion had come back from the dead.


	23. Family Ties

**Family Ties**

_*Lord Datherion!*_ The name leapt from mind to mind among the re-transplanted colonists until their entire telepathic net was ablaze with the astonishing syllables. Every one gathered around, nearly holding their breath in silent tribute to an immortal love. The reunited pair stood, alone and apart, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, eyes closed, foreheads touching as they drank in the memories and emotions each had carried solo for so long.

A few feet away, the Doctor watched his parents' reunion in frozen shock. It had been so very long since his father had disappeared – he had been just a kid, just over a hundred and twenty! Even the memory of his mother standing at the ornate state funeral to sing her now-famous aria, Tis'hania's Tears, seemed almost to have happened to someone else, not the woman he was watching now. She had been a single, solo individual person in his mind for so long now that simply seeing her holding someone – anyone – was an extreme shock. His mind just couldn't process that this was his father. No, his father was gone, dead, lost, for time out of mind. A cardboard cutout, a ghost, a hazy childhood memory of cold, distant disapproval, not a flesh-and-blood person who lived and breathed – and loved.

A dozen yards further on, a million forgotten lightyears away, in a knot of human aliens, Corin stood alone, lost and forgotten. He felt every inch of the distance between Earth and Gallifrey stretching between his feet and the couple in each other's arms; felt he was watching them not through a tunnel but a gigantic telescope pointed at the stars. He knew his bondmate had turned and was watching him, was squeezing his unresponsive hand, trying to slip something into his mind on their telepathic link, but he couldn't process any of it, couldn't spare a single neuron to turn and look into her warm, loving brown eyes. He began shaking his head, slowly at first, then faster and faster, trying to negate the world crashing down around him – then suddenly found he had unfrozen, whirled around and was walking quickly away from the scene. When it registered, he didn't try to stop his feet – and they took the liberty of moving faster and faster until he was running, swifter and harder than he had ever done since waking up in this new, half-human body. He didn't stop till he was well round the cape and up the north-running shore, coming to an abrupt halt at a high rocky barrier cliff now washed by the rising tide.

He wilted to his knees in the sand and sobbed; utterly, violently alone in the multiverse.

^..^

"_Corin?"_

Behind him, Lady Rose's voice penetrated the Doctor's fogged brain, and he turned to see his twin's back fading swiftly away. When she turned back to him, her eyes ablaze with hurt questions, they shared a long, bewildered look. All he could do was shrug his ignorance of his twin's distress. She pointed at Datherion and mouthed the question, _Your father?_, and he nodded confirmation. So she shook her head at him, and, telling her two older children to stay with their brother, began to follow her bondmate into his wilderness.

Movement on the other side recaptured the Doctor's attention, and he swiveled back to see his parents turn together, as Datherion pulled his wife gently towards his TARDIS. The Doctor stepped forward, hand out in welcome, mouth open to greet his long-lost parent – and they brushed past him as if he wasn't even there. He froze again, smile dying on his face, and stared blindly out over the bay as the door clicked shut behind him, locking him out of their world. As always.

He stayed there, stock still, as the crowd around slowly broke apart and restarted their general drifting towards the beach and the delayed feast. As the last colonists departed, a familiar warm hand crept into his own, and he knew without turning or opening his mind that it was Rose – _his_ Rose. Finally, after several more minutes, he was able to say without his voice cracking _too_ much, "Eight hundred years and that still hurts. I wasn't expecting the Hallelujah Chorus, but acknowledgment of my existence might have been nice. For once."

She squeezed his hand again, leaning her head on his shoulder in sympathy. Then, twisting slightly so she could peer impishly up into his face, she said calmly, "Well, if _we'd_ been separated for a century or two, I'd like to think _you_ wouldn't want to pay attention to anyone else for an hour or so, too." She waited until he blinked, then added softly, "Give them a day, at least, Mathurin. They've got a lot of catch-up loving to do."

^..^

"I want to go home."

It had taken Lady Rose over an hour to find her bondmate, following his footprints in the sand at a swift walk, knowing instinctively he wouldn't get _too_ far away, but that he needed to work it out his way, as he always had, pounding it out through his feet. When she'd finally spied him just before sunset, sitting cross-legged on the beach in the distance and staring out to sea, she'd had to pause a moment, heaving a huge sigh of relief before continuing up to melt into a mirror pose at his side, taking up companion vigil in silence. His mind was still blocked to her, but she knew he knew she was there. She didn't have to gaze at him to know of the tear tracks on his cheeks. Several long, silent minutes passed before he half-whispered his request in a voice hoarse with tears shed and unshed.

"Why?" _Not until you talk to me, and tell me why this is upsetting you so much._ She didn't try to send it against his block, but it was there in her mind had he chosen to look.

"Because I'm not him. I'm not even a Time Lord. I don't..." A long pause. "I don't want to see the look in his eyes." Without asking, she knew the second "he" was Datherion.

She considered. "All these years, I thought you were. Both. You certainly acted like you were. Why the change now?"

"It's easy to pretend when the proof isn't staring you in the face."

"What proof?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She hesitated again, then charged in, pouring every bit of velvet compassion she could into her low, soft voice, letting the steel glint through the words alone. "Tough. You need to. You need to face this, whatever it is, and talk it out with me." A beat. "We're not going anywhere until you do, my love."

The longest pause yet, then he finally began speaking his pain, in a low, broken voice. "Twenty-seven years. Twenty-seven years since I woke up in this body, and it never really mattered whose memories they were, mine or his. As long as he was gone, in a whole other universe, it didn't matter.

"But now he's here. And _they're_ here. And it matters. And I don't have the answer. Are they my memories? Or do they belong only to the body who made them?" He sobbed. "I don't know, Rose. I don't know any more."

She considered again. "Are you telling me you lied to me?"

That got his attention. His head swiveled around to stare at her, startled. _"What?"_

"That very first day, on the beach. Practically the first thing you said to me was, 'it's our memories that make us who we are.' Are you telling me that all those memories you woke up with, and have been carrying around ever since, had _nothing to do_ with the man you were then, and the man you are today? That you're someone else entirely? That you've been faking it, lying to me, all these years?"

Stunned, he said nothing, but finally shook his head, no.

"Then they _are_ your memories, Corin. _Corin._" she stressed his chosen name again, reminding him of its genesis: the Doctor's original family name. "It works both ways." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter that they weren't made with this body that you're so fixated on. They're still yours. And his, yes. They belong to both of you."

She let that sink in for several long heartbeats, then gently probed again. "Why is that so important?"

"Because... when... _I_ was a kid," his quick little nod at her as he quietly stressed the pronoun signaled his (provisional) acceptance of her last point, "I _adored_ him. Like all boys do their fathers. But he..." he broke off, staring out to sea for a moment. "He never approved or accepted me. All I can ever remember of him is his endless, harsh lectures on _'upholding the honor and glory of the Time Lords_'. I never _ever _managed to measure up. And now..." He took a deep breath and plunged into the heart of his pain. "I'm not even a Time Lord anymore. I've got less than zero chance of him even _looking _at me. And that still hurts – more than you can imagine."

Remembering her own lifelong longing for her dead father, and how much the other Pete's initial rejection of her had hurt, she doubted that last bit – but held her peace. Now was not the time to quibble. "Corin... you're part human, yes, but you're part Time Lord, too!"

His head was already shaking no. "No, I'm not. Not anymore." She started to take a breath to argue, but he held up his hand to stop her – and then dropped it down to take up her hand at last in their old familiar clasp. They both glanced down for a second, the echo of all those thousands of other times flashing instantly through both their minds, and something deep inside Corin relaxed and let go just the tiniest bit – dropping his mind shield slightly, as well, though he didn't go subvocal.

He took another deep breath, steadied. "I never realized it until just now, back there. Rose... aside from our Life Bond... I've lost almost all my telepathic abilities. I just hadn't realized it – I so rarely used them, anyway. Didn't you notice, back there, how nobody was actually saying anything out loud? They were all speaking on a community network." He paused again, then plunged in. "And I couldn't hear them. I haven't heard them once since we found them on New Gallifrey."

She held his hand tightly, hearing through their link the echo of the indelible shock and grief that realization had caused him. "Is it that important?" she whispered.

"Yes... and yes. It's symbolic, too, of everything else I've lost, from my second heart to the ability to regenerate. Rose... I'm no longer a Time Lord. In any sense, even reduced. I don't know what I am. I just know... I can't face the look in his eyes when he realizes that, too."

"Your mother accepted you, though, Corin. She's called you 'son' since the first day."

He shook his head, violently. "She always accepted the Doctor, too, my whole life, even when Father didn't. She stood between us, forever the peacemaker. It never made any difference to him then. Why should it now?"

She had no answer for that. They returned to their staring out eastward over the waves, watching as the last of the daylight crept away behind them. Then, finally, she whispered, "He's been gone a long, long time. And people change, Corin. You know that. You've changed, I have, even the Doctor. He has too – it's inevitable. You don't know how he's changed yet, or how much." She squeezed his hand again. "Give him a chance, love. Please. One chance. If you leave now... you'll never know. You might miss out on the most wonderful thing in the world: your father. That's something I know about, too."

He sighed, acknowledging her point, and she went on. "I think you owe it to him, and to yourself, to find out. And you owe it to your children, too, Corin: the chance to get to know their grandfather, however briefly. Because if you leave now, we all will. I won't stay here without you."

Cornered. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then nodded, capitulating. He had one caveat, though. "One chance. One. I won't hang around to be repeatedly slammed."

"And I wouldn't want or expect you to."

He wasn't ready to go back just yet, though, so they stayed put for a while longer as the warm, sweet Pacifica twilight settled in around them. After a time, she glanced slyly sideways at his profile, and bumped his shoulder with her own.

"What?" His mouth twitched, belying the querulousness.

"Remember that night in the rocks? When you told me your family name?" Her tongue was peeking out between her teeth, teasing him as she hadn't done for a long time.

"Of course I do. What about it?"

"Well..." she drew it out. "Did you know you're not the only one with transdimensional pockets any more?"

Now he was really curious. He half-turned to watch her sneak her other hand into her pants pocket, _they'd __have__ to be transdimensional to hold anything!_, and and slowly pull out a package, twice as large as her palm. She held it underneath her hand, teasing, then suddenly flipped her palm over to reveal...

...a small package of marshmallows. His laughter pealed out over the ocean, hers chiming in a second later.

Rose began to rise, looking around for driftwood for a fire, but he caught her hand again and pulled her back down to him, and she twisted, laughing, so that she half-fell across his lap, coming to land with their arms around each other.

"Baroness, have I told you today how much I love you?" he asked.

"Let me think..." her face twisted in mock concentration. "Does that include back on Earth, since we woke up this morning?"

"Yes."

"Hmmmmm. Nope."

He kissed her grin away, then pulled back just far enough to whisper against her lips, "I love you more than there are grains of sand on this beach."

"That's a lot of grains..." she murmured, sing-songing it like a warning.

"No," he replied, huskily now. "It's nowhere near enough."


	24. Foldback Harmonics

**Foldback Harmonics**

The newly re-bonded mates opened their eyes at the same instant, tenderly smiling their reaffirmed love. For a long, long minute they merely breathed in unison, reveling in the joy of simply being together again.

Then Datherion's eyes clouded over with her memories, just learned, sorrow and loss and anger glowering from deep within. "The Time Lords are no more?"

"No. Only those here remain. Less than two hundred remnants of a once-proud and mighty race."

"Rassilon." Immediately, confidently assigning the blame, he hissed the name with implacable hatred – long predating his own misadventure and her more recent experience. Theirs was an ancient feud, which had not a little to do with the woman now resting in his arms and the choices _she_ had made. His breath caught as another fragment of her memory swam to the surface, of her kneeling behind his enemy on the dais, hands covering her face in enforced shame. "What did he do to you?" Pain for her sake threaded through the words.

She'd caught the flash of memory, but to his wonder she shook her head, smiling. "It was intended to be public humiliation for standing against him. But it would only have worked had I given a damn about what any of them thought of me. Which I didn't."

His fingers stroked her cheek with the lightest caress. "My Tis. You've always been so strong. Stronger than he ever expected."

"Not always." _Now_ her eyes filled with tears, as the long aching centuries of separation echoed once more between them. He gathered her close again, and bent his lips to hers.

^..^

Some time later, they decided to rejoin the world (their empty stomachs having finally had their say), and opened his TARDIS door to find a new structure sitting diagonally a few feet away: a small, weathered stone cottage. Tis laughed, pointing to the door standing ajar, "I think that's an invitation."

Datherion smiled back, picking up her memory of Joshua's TARDIS in that disguise – then shook his head ruefully, still not adjusted to the greatly – and strangely – expanded family. Passing through the single wooden door, she led him down the short hall to the atrium, laughing in delight at his astonished expression as he gaped up at the tavorik tree. "Wow!" he breathed. "Now _this_... is impressive! Tell me again how it came about?"

"He said they grafted it onto an existing pleasure spaceship, taking out the engines and turning those compartments into storage rooms instead." About to say more, she was interrupted by a spate of laughter spilling out over the top balcony, and they took the further invitation to climb up the spiral staircase. By the time they reached the top, a cornucopia of enticing aromas had joined the sounds of conviviality in luring them on, and they followed both to an open archway, finding themselves once more in Baby's huge, homey combined kitchen and dining room.

"Ho! There you are! We were just about to send out a search party!" Joshua cried from the far side of the central work island. He was dressed the part in a white chef's coat and toque, with five-year-old Tasheira in a matching getup standing on a low stool beside him. Tis looked around, smiling, seeing the entire extended family was gathered for a feast, with Romana and her two girls included.

The Doctor, seated on the nearer side of the huge wooden table, climbed warily to his feet, turning towards his parents with a carefully blank expression. Only Rosita and Corin knew the churning thoughts behind that mask, matching his churning stomach; Rosita from their link, Corin because they matched his own apprehension.

Datherion took a deep breath and faced his son, Tis's memories cascading through his mind. "Cor – Doctor," he corrected himself mid-stream, then glanced across the table at the older-looking of the two twins. "You're Corin, yes?" At the affirming nod, he looked back and forth between the two for a moment, taking in their matching blank expressions and instantly pegging the cause. He'd always known he'd been a harsh, demanding parent. He simply hadn't known any other way to be.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the Doctor, but interrupted himself with a question. "How old are you now?"

The Doctor blinked. "Nine hundred forty-something. I've lost track exactly." He never had figured out how long he'd been in the jungle; didn't care to. It didn't matter, really.

Datherion's eyebrows soared to meet his hairline. "You're far older than _I_ am now!" he commented.

His son blinked again, then gave a weak smile before turning it around. "How long have you been here in this universe?" _How long has it been for you since we last spoke?_

Datherion snorted softly, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. "I'm not certain, either. Something over two centuries." The smile drained away, and he nodded acknowledgment of the real question. "A very long time, for both of us." He hesitated, then... "Do you think we could agree to... let the past remain in the past, and simply get to know each other as we are now? All of us?" Glancing over to Corin for a moment, he included him in the question, then back to the Doctor, laying it in his lap.

Eyes stinging, the Doctor nodded slowly. "I'd like that." It still wasn't the Hallelujah Chorus, but it would do for a start. He tentatively brought up his hand – but Datherion didn't hesitate, grasping his son's forearm in the Gallifreyan clasp of greeting. They stood for a moment gazing into each other's eyes, the dark, angry memories they'd both just agreed to put by crowding behind blue and brown irises... but neither spoke of them, and after a moment they each nodded simultaneously, let go and stepped back.

Datherion turned back to Corin then and shared another nod of agreement. Neither spoke, but there was an air of wary truce, at least.

Joshua decided to break up the tension, and approached the couple with a pair of filled wine glasses, then raised his own for a toast. "To Datherion and Tis'hania! May you never be parted again." A chorus of agreement coursed around the table, sealing the toast. Then Joshua raised his glass again, glancing around at each of them, gathering attention for a second toast. "And to family. The most important bond of all."

Datherion then made a slow circuit of the table, Tis at his side, greeting each one and putting personal impressions to her memories he'd briefly lived during their LifeDreaming. Reaching Corin, he reached out without hesitation and clasped his forearm in the same greeting he'd given the Doctor, nodding at him wordlessly for a moment before giving another soft snort. "I left one son, and came back to find him doubled. I wonder if anyone else has ever been in that situation before?" His smile died at Corin's continuing solemn expression, and he looked deeper, questioning.

Corin took a deep breath, and laid it bare, _sotto voce._ "I'm part human." _Let's get this over with._

Datherion blinked, then nodded. "Yes. She told me that," tipping his head sideways at Tis'hania. Realizing then what was behind the admission, he shook his head, speaking slowly and carefully. "I honestly don't feel I have any right to judge _anyone_ at this point, Corin, let alone you – either of you." A beat, the normally eloquent Time Lord at a loss for words. Then, "Let's just get to know each other now," he repeated simply.

Taking another deep breath, Corin finally nodded. "OK."

Lady Rose smiled softly at her bondmate's relief from his side, catching his father's eye, and Datherion swiveled back to compare her to the other version alongside the Doctor. "And you were twinned, too, yes? But not at the same time or by the same process, is that right?" He shook his head, stepping back to take in both sets of twins. "The four of you... are _fascinating_."

That comment netted the first genuine grins from the two men since their father had entered the room. "Well, _we_ are," drawled the Doctor, putting his arm around his bondmate. "Don't know about _them,_" he added archly with a nod towards the other pair.

"Oi!" Corin shot back, letting his hidden redheaded heritage show. "Watch it, Spaceman!" And with the laughter that followed, the rest of the tension drained away.

After greeting (and mentally placing) the others, the couple allowed themselves to be seated at the head of the table, and Joshua and his pint-sized sous-chef brought out the main course of the feast they'd been working over all day: a platter-sized haunch of some wild beast dug out of one of the stasis chambers, slow-roasted to crispy brown perfection along with a wide assortment of vegetables and grains and tangy chutneys. While it was being consumed (with many gushing complements to the chefs), Datherion began telling the story of his exile.

"I was searching for the ancient pathways between worlds, the ones our ancestors had used. I'm still not sure what happened or how I slipped into this universe. I didn't even realize that's what I'd done until my TARDIS began losing power and breaking down – which happened rather quickly, in fact. I managed – with some help – to find a way to adapt it to this universe, and I've been chasing whispers ever since, trying to find any hint of the Time Lords. That's what finally led me here: I traced the name Gallifrey to this world, this island, up in the future, and came back to the settling of it, when it was first named. I had no idea... that you were here." He took a moment to gaze at his bondmate in wonder yet again, and she squeezed his hand.

"How did you adapt your TARDIS?" asked the Doctor, curious.

"Well, I partly grew a new one! That's what made me think there was someone else here – unless I'm going to double back on myself someday. Or unless..." he paused, wide-eyed, as the realization hit. "... _you're _going to do it!" He stared at Joshua, the owner of the only other TARDIS in residence.

"Do _what?"_

Datherion leaned back in his chair, considering. "Shortly after I fell through the void – and I can't tell you exactly when that was within a millennium; the time seems to be running slightly differently here – my TARDIS was rapidly losing power. I was in normal space, within range of a rather primitive system, when I caught a whiff on the sensors of ganehedric particles emanating from one of the planets!"

His sons both reacted to that, but nobody else at the table understood the significance. "Ganehedric particles only come from superheated – as in almost vaporized – gallinium. And gallinium only comes from one planet: Gallifrey!" The Doctor turned back to his father. "But you weren't anywhere near there, were you?"

"No, I was out on the edge of this galaxy, as a matter of fact. Naturally I investigated, and traced the particles to a single spot on one of the system's planets: a recently active volcano. There was a deposit of gallinium on the side of the dome, in what looked like an impact crater. It was as though a chunk of Gallifrey's asteroid belt had come loose, wandered halfway across the universe, and landed there on that hillside! The lava was occasionally washing over the pocket during eruptions, heating the gallinium and sending out the particles – almost like a signal flare."

"To you?" put in Romana.

He looked at her squarely, then nodded. "I believe so, frankly. Because when I landed, a group of natives – they were very primitive, pre-technological – approached, saying I was the visitor from the stars foretold to them by the 'other' visitor, many generations before, who had made their sacred mountain burn. I was about to dismiss it as religious gobbledygook, when they presented the 'gift' the other visitor had left in their care for me." He paused a beat, drawing it out dramatically. "It was a chunk of TARDIS coral, already attuned to this universe's frequencies."

Everyone turned to stare at Joshua. "It's got to be you, son," Corin commented. "Baby's the only TARDIS I know of that's so attuned."

Josh began to spread his hands in submission, but Datherion interrupted. "There was also something else with the coral. A token, if you will. I assumed I was meant to carry it around until I could return it, and complete the circle." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet drawstring bag, untying it to reveal a small object and setting it carefully in a clear spot on the table: a tiny goblet, just two inches high, its gleaming surface tossing silver flashes into the air.

Joshua gasped in slow motion, leaning away from the cup as if it might burn him. "What's the engraving on it?" he asked, verifying, his voice husky with emotion.

"The letter J," Datherion told him.

Lady Rose pegged it, her tiny gasp echoing her son's. "Janiver?"

Josh nodded, blinking against the tears. "My son's christening cup," he told the others.

Those who hadn't known before gasped, but his expression told him the rest of the story. Whatever had happened to the boy, he was no longer. No one spoke to rub salt in his grieving father's evident wounds.

Finally, he looked back at his grandfather. "I have the cup in my room. Keep that one safe for me until I've sent it off. Then... I'd appreciate having it back." Datherion nodded, solemnly wrapping the token up again and returning it to his pocket where it had lived for two centuries.

Deliberately changing the subject, Corin opened the discussion of where and when and how the gift was to be delivered. As he had said before, Datherion couldn't narrow his arrival down further than a thousand years or so – some time after a certain supernova had exploded, during the several hundred years that particular volcano had been active. (That was why they couldn't simply meet him and cut short his entire exile.) "Although it did take many years to grow the coral and then graft it on top of mine, so it could receive and transfer power. Even after that, it's always been a very slow process to recharge the power supplies. I can usually only make three or four jumps before I have to stop for a decade or so – though that time's been getting shorter, as the new coral continues to grow. I'm down to about seven years for a fill-up."

The Doctor and Corin shared a puzzled look. _Why aren't we going to give him Donna's trick to speed up the process?_

Joshua had caught the look, puzzled as well. "Well, we can't _leave_ it shatterfried; it will have grown past usefulness before he got it."

"No," countered Corin. "It was the foldback harmonic on the dimensional stabilizer, too. And that's part the support machinery. We don't have an entire lab to leave him, just the coral."

"But we could leave a message with instructions, somehow, couldn't we, along with the cup?" asked the Doctor.

"What are you talking about?" The intended receiver of the hypothetical message broke in.

"How to speed up the growth of the coral. Baby here was fully grown in three decades."

Datherion's face paled. "How?" he asked weakly.

"Shatterfrying the plasmid shell, and setting that foldback harmonic to thirty-six-point-three."

Even more color drained from the elder Time Lord's face. "There _was_ a message, engraved on a bit of plastisteel. It had been eroded over time by handling from the natives and exposure to the elements. What was left – those instructions – didn't make any sense, so I ignored it."

Dead silence reigned around the table, as the near miss sunk in. "Too damned stubborn for your own good," Tis'hania finally commented. Datherion turned to her, sheepishly accepting the rebuke from his bondmate – the _only_ one he'd accept it from.

"Well," he finally recovered. "There was one good thing. The only other word that survived, in the middle of the erosion. The one I've been chasing all these decades, that finally led me here.

"_Gallifrey_."


	25. Part V: J'Accuse!

_**A/N:** And you thought we were almost finished here...

* * *

_

_**Part Five**_

_As I watched in sorrow there suddenly appeared  
A figure grey and ghostly beneath a flowing beard  
In times of deepest darkness I have seen him dressed in black  
Now my tapestry's unraveling, he's come to take me back_

_**J'Accuse!**_

Still sitting around the old wooden dining table in Baby, Datherion continued his story. "I don't know how many jumps I've made over the past two centuries, trying to find and then trace the name Gallifrey. I thought I had it a few times, but it kept slipping away into nothing. And having to wait for so long in between while the TARDIS slowly recharged... It got frustrating, quite often. But I couldn't give up. Somehow I knew I'd find whoever left me the coral and the cup eventually." He smiled down the table. "Never dreamed it would be my own family."

"You know..." Tis'hania began speculatively. "It occurs to me now, knowing what you've been doing... You've been living very much the same kind of life that your son has. Constantly traveling – well, as often as you could, anyway. No real home except your TARDIS. Getting involved in things wherever you found yourself, when you couldn't avoid them. The only difference – unless you hid something from me – is that you didn't pick up traveling companions along the way."

Quickly assuring her that he hadn't, Datherion looked from her to the Doctor. "Is that how you've been living, too?"

The Doctor nodded. "Pretty much. Except for lately, I never stayed anywhere for very long. Always moving on to the next adventure."

The two of them gazed at each other for a long, considering moment. "I guess we're more alike than we realized," Datherion finally commented.

On the Doctor's far side, Rosita leaned back slightly out of their line of sight, smiling at her mother-in-law. _Well done!_ she mouthed the words soundlessly, and Tis gave her a ghost of a wink.

Just then, a new voice came from the doorway. "Excuse me, everyone." Surprised, they turned to see the healer Dashok there, smiling apologetically. "Please forgive me," he went on, turning to Datherion and Tis'hania. "I've been sent as an emissary. You were spotted leaving your seclusion, unfortunately. And now everyone – the entire colony – wishes the chance to greet you and hear your story. Will you accept our invitation to continue this celebration in the common? It's a beautiful evening outside."

His timing was perfect; they'd pretty much finished eating. So, accepting the invitation, the family stood, taking a few minutes first to help clear the table. During the bustle, Romana stepped to Dashok's side.

"What is it, Dashok? I can tell you're troubled by something."

He started to speak, then shook his head. "Nothing I can put my finger on. There are some disturbing resonances on the telepathic network regarding this development. But I can't quite 'hear' what's being said, or by whom. I'm just a little uneasy."

The colony leader immediately went on the alert. "If it's not being said in the clear, then whoever it is has something to hide. I don't like this, Dashok."

Reminding her that communication on the network was usually non-vocal, he nevertheless agreed; the resonances were troubling. Without a word they agreed to keep an eye out for trouble.

A short time later found Romana leading a procession up the hill to the village and into the common, finding it awash with light from bonfires and torches, as well as two of Pacifica's three moons high overhead. The tiny corin sproutling in the center, protected now by a circular thigh-high rock wall, had already grown several inches and was sporting silver leaf buds along its length, symbolizing the colony's hopes for the future on this new world. Datherion had reluctantly agreed to allow Romana to present him officially and publicly to the citizenry, most of whom had been born after his disappearance, so she led the group to the corin and hopped up onto the wall, instantly gaining everyone's attention.

Before she could say a word, though, a loud cry came from nearby. "Lord Datherion! Welcome, Lord President!" It was Kaphir, flanked by several of his cronies, holding himself erect and trying to ignore the rips in his old council robes. Holding his hands wide, palms up, he gave Datherion the ancient formal bow of greeting.

"Kaphir," Datherion replied pleasantly enough (picking the name up from Tis' mind; his own memory agreeing with the identification a beat later, supplying an image of the Councillor delivering a speech in the Chamber). "I thought the honorific titles had been dropped."

"Along with a great many other things that should not have been forgotten," came the pompous reply. "Our people have lost their way, Lord President. We have fallen from our rightful place on the heights, and are wandering in the wilderness, just as you have been. But now, with your return, now is the time for us to return to our former greatness! Will you accept the challenge, my Lord, and lead us back home?"

Datherion wasn't the only one who blinked hard at that. The majority of those within earshot – which was the entire population of the colony – stood gaping at the former Councillor. Romana reacted first, attempting to relate Kaphir's evident flight of fantasy to current reality. "Are you calling for another vote on colony leadership, Kaphir?"

Kaphir spared her a haughty glance. "There is no need for a vote, _Lady_ Romana. Whenever a former President, removed from office by fate rather than election, returns, he is automatically restored to that office! As you were. As Rassilon was! And here is your own immediate predecessor, returned to us at last. For what other purpose than to lead us back to glory?"

The Doctor stepped forward. "Gallifrey is _gone_, Kaphir. How many times must that be said? Our home world, in our home universe, is a cinder!"

"So _you_ say," Kaphir hissed, turning on the former exile in fury. "You, who did everything you could to drive us into the ground, to destroy our power and glory, to destroy our very civilization! And you succeeded!" Suddenly, all bets were off, all facades were dropped, as the old Councillor let loose with every drop of bitter enmity he had carried hidden for six years – longer, for the entire century of half-life within the Time Lock; vengeance and implacable hatred for the one he held solely responsible for his people's downfall came pouring out with every word. "I name you traitor, _Doctor_, traitor against all Gallifreyan life! I charge you with the genocide of our people, and the destruction of our planet, our entire civilization! For too long you have been wandering free without paying for your crimes. No more! I am holding you under arrest, Doctor, and I will prosecute you myself!"

"And be judge and jury, as well?" Romana cut across his ranting. "And what actions of the Doctor's, specifically, are you charging him with?" Her mind was racing with the implications of Kaphir's own words and actions, both for the past and the future of the infant colony. Where had this insanity come from? For it was insanity, she was certain: his wild eyes gave it away.

"It is well known that _he _set the Time Lock, and then destroyed it, which first froze the sector and all within into that state far worse than death, and then blasted it into atoms!"

"Wrong!" Romana replied, to Kaphir's initial bewilderment. "_I_ took both those actions, although the Doctor was present for the first – and only the first. It was _my_ hands that did the work. Will you charge me, as well?" She knew her mistake instantly, as her old adversary's eyes glowed in (slightly mad) triumph.

"And me?" Joshua broke in before Kaphir could reply, stepping forward to stand beside the Doctor. "I was there, as well. All three of us were in that chamber, setting then breaking the lock in turn."

"Or me?" Datherion whirled in even greater shock, as his bondmate stepped forward calmly to join the others. She went on, "If you would charge those who took the actions, should you not also charge the one who set them their tasks? It was I who sent each one below, in turn."

"Nor will you stand alone, Tis'hania." Yet another detached himself from the surrounding crowd and joined those accused; Presonne. "I had my part in that, as well, and I am proud of it."

Sensing triumph, Kaphir's feral smile grew broader yet. All of his enemies were within his grasp at last. "So be it! ALL of you will answer for your crimes against society at last!"

But before he could continue ranting, the Doctor broke in, low and level. "Oh, no. I won't be judged by the likes of _you_, Kaphir. Not for that. Not for anything."

"Nor will you, my son." Amazingly, Tis'hania was still calm and regal. "For if you insist on pursuing this folly, Kaphir, then _I_ will formally lay charges against you, as well. And against every single remaining member of the Time Lord Council, save myself and Presonne."

"Charges of _what?"_ sneered Kaphir, certain of his purity.

Tis'hania stepped in front of the rest, gathering the eyes of every being in the common, and spoke her next words with careful precision, her voice carrying clearly to the furthest corners of the common. "I will charge you all with conspiracy to commit the ultimate genocide, Kaphir: the absolute destruction of every living being in existence, and the destruction of time itself. It was you – ALL of you – who conspired with Rassilon to bring about the end of time. And it was that ultimate evil, that universal genocide that I, and each of these others, acted to prevent." She paused, allowing her words to sink in to all those watching the spectacle. "It's your choice, Kaphir."

"And who will do the judging, then, _Lady,_" Kaphir replied, continuing to imbue each use of the honorifics with dripping sarcasm. "Shall we sit in judgment of each other, yet again?"

"Of course not. Judgment will be rendered by the citizens of Gallifrey, those who endured the century under the Time Lock frozen, outside the Council Chamber. Not a pool selected from them, either. ALL of them, together. This is a matter for everyone to decide."

Kaphir hesitated for a fleeting moment, some remnant of sense screaming for him to desist, but it was overruled by his long, simmering, seething hatred of those who had brought him down from the place he considered rightfully his: the pinnacle of the universe, Time Lord. The thought that those same citizens might not share his sense of ultimate entitlement, hidden deep underneath their tame acceptance of exile these past six years, never crossed his mind.

"So be it," he sneered. Then he turned again to Datherion. "Lord President, will you accept your ancient mandate, and return to your rightful place? Will you oversee this proceeding?"

Datherion stared at him, bug-eyed, rendered momentarily speechless by the man's gall. "You honestly expect me to preside over a trial that will determine the fate of my _bondmate,_ my _son, and_ my _grandson?_ Have you lost _all_ contact with reality, Kaphir?" He moved his feet at last, taking the three steps that brought him to the Doctor's side behind Tis and placing his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "I stand with my son."

Taken aback, Kaphir stared at the tableau, then sniffed yet again. "So be it," he repeated. "We begin in the morning." Without a glance at those who he'd just imperiously drafted into jury duty, he swept out of the common, the dozen-or-so of his loyal followers on his heels.

"Blimey" breathed Joshua. He turned to Datherion. "Not exactly the most joyous homecoming I've ever witnessed."

"Lady Romana?" It was Dashok. As he'd never been on the Council, he was one of those citizens. "What do we do now?"

She shook her head at him, sadly. "You're going to have to step up and figure it out, Dashok. I can't help you." She looked around, seeing the mass of people shifting slowly, gathering into knots and groups. Apparently the former Councillors were shaking themselves out, watching their fellow colonists – and now, suddenly, judges – warily. "Gather up all the citizens and prepare yourselves as best you can. You'll need to elect a leader, to preside over the trial. Use one of the old common buildings as a meeting place. Datherion? Would you be willing to advise them on procedures, at least?" He nodded, and she turned back to Dashok, shaking her head sadly. "I'm sorry, old friend. You have no idea. You were right about those resonances in the network, though."

Another citizen had stepped up to the group. "Lady Tis'hania? Were you not a TruthSeeker?"

He began to go on, but she cut him off. "Yes, but I now stand accused. I cannot stand as TruthSeeker as well. And you must decide among yourselves how much weight to put to my words, compared to any other's. But don't worry – you're not without a TruthSeeker. Felisara was my pupil once, though she left before taking the final vows. I would vouch for her at any time, and have no qualms over her standing now for this."

She nodded over his shoulder at the woman who had appeared there, and they turned to ask Felisara wordlessly if she would take on the responsibility. She looked as upset as the rest, but visibly steeled herself and nodded. "It needs doing," was all she said.

As Dashok and the other new "civilian" leaders reluctantly turned and began herding their fellows towards the line of abandoned group homes, the expanded family likewise began shifting, still in shock, turning to drift back down the hill to Baby. Datherion suddenly realized that the Doctor had neither moved nor spoken for the last several minutes, and turned to look at his son, squeezing his shoulder where his hand still rested there. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

The Doctor was shaking. Even with everything else crashing down around him, it seemed his entire existence had shrunk, concentrating on that one shoulder. His father's hand resting there, not in anger but in support. _Do you have any idea what that gesture, those words, mean to me? I've been waiting all my life to hear you say that._ He raised his own trembling hand and laid it atop his father's, closing his eyes against the prickling tears.

He hadn't sent the words, but somehow Datherion understood. He stood a moment in silent communication, then squeezed his shoulder again. "Come on, son. Let's get off this hill."


	26. Fault Lines

**Fault Lines**

It was a somber group that slowly trooped back down over the path they'd so recently gaily ascended, arriving back at Baby's cottage door in silence. Romana stopped suddenly on the doorstep, glancing down at a drowsy Belanna in her arms and sighing. "I need to put her to bed." Her face twisted in distaste as she glanced back up the hill towards the village and her own transplanted house, then turned toward Joshua – who smiled back instantly, answering her question before she opened her mouth.

"Of course. Use the same bedroom as before – it's yours." He turned the smile down towards Tasheira, who'd been holding his hand on the way down. "Come on, little one, time for bed. Do you remember where it is?" They climbed up the spiral stairs, letting Tasheira lead the way.

Presonne had walked down with the others, but hesitated at the doorway, staring at his feet. Datherion, a couple of steps behind, realized his old friend hadn't met his eyes once. Before he could even glance at Tis, she mentally gave him the reason: he'd been the father of her stillborn child the first year of their exile. (She hadn't kept it hidden during their LifeDreaming, and he'd relived both the gut-wrenching decision and the horrible aftermath with her.) "Ah," he said, taking a deep breath and making a lightning-fast assay of his gut reactions. He stepped over to Presonne's side, placing a hand on his shoulder as he'd done to the Doctor shortly before. "I bear you no ill will, old friend, for the choices you made during my absence – either of you. Each of us has done what we deemed best at the time. Instead, I grieve with you for the loss of the child."

Presonne met his eyes at last, and simply nodded in relief, then gave his friend a shadowed smile. "Welcome back, old friend. Not as joyous a return as I would have wished for. But it is _good_ to see you once more." With that, they wordlessly agreed the subject was closed, and together entered the TARDIS.

A short time later, the girls having fallen asleep in record time, Romana entered the big old kitchen again, finding all the adults clustered around the room, some sitting at the table, some standing, a fruit tart dessert in various stages of demolished here and there. She accepted her piece from Joshua with a matching smile, but then put it down on the island untouched and began pacing restlessly.

"What was he _thinking?_ Has he gone completely mad? All the effort we've put in, for six long bloody years, ripped to shreds by one man with a grudge, in less than an hour. Hah! Five minutes! How did he divide us so quickly? I thought we'd put those divisions behind us! How did it deteriorate so fast?"

Tis'hania looked at her solemnly. "Those divisions have always been there, Romana. Perhaps because you knew so few of us before we crossed the Void, you didn't see them. But they were there."

Romana stopped pacing abruptly, in shock at her own blindness, almost pouncing on her friend. "What do you mean? What haven't I seen?"

Tis'hania sighed. "It's natural for any sizable group of people to create smaller subgroups, networks of friendships. And that's what we've done. But for a very long time, those networks did not cross the social barrier between former Councillor and former citizen. It did ease, over time, but it took quite a long time."

"That's it? Friendships?"

"No." She hesitated, then went on. "Everything I'm about to say is a generalization, and of course there are exceptions. But... then the Malaise struck. And it struck the Council hardest. Most of those who were gravely ill, and most of those who died, were Councillors. Probably because they had the most experience in time travel, and many of them had once owned a TARDIS. That would have strengthened the Imprimatur, and set them up for the Malaise.

"But even more telling: since Brandon discovered the cure, most of those who have stepped up and taken it – those who were not already gravely ill and thus forced to do so – were citizens. And most of those who have still refused to give up their Imprimatur are Councillors."

"Why?" She could figure it out herself, but she wanted to hear someone else say it.

Tis'hania shrugged. "Holding on to the hope, I suppose, of someday reclaiming the title of Time Lord. Of regaining the ability to regenerate, and live forever. That's a hard thing to give up. I haven't been able to do it myself," she admitted. She hadn't taken the cure, either. "Though in my case, I was afraid it would force a final regeneration, and I didn't want to change." She smiled at her bondmate, the reason for that desire.

"Why have you never spoken of this to me? I should have known about it!"

Presonne snorted, drawing her attention away from Tis. "After your dramatic challenge a week after our arrival? Nobody wanted to be banished..."

"Besides," added Tis. "I suppose I felt that to bring attention to the divisions, to put them into words, might make them worse. I don't know what you could have done, anyway, had you known."

"Then why did it bubble up now? – Oh." Romana turned to Datherion. "Because of your appearance, of course. He even said it. Hoping you, a full Time Lord still, with a functioning TARDIS, will lead them back into glory." She said if flatly, deriding the wish for a fantasy.

"I am truly sorry, Lady Romana, to be the agent of destruction. I would never have wished for this to happen," he replied solemnly.

The Doctor broke in from across the room. "You? Hardly. Your appearance may have been the catalyst, but you saw how quickly his attention landed on his real target. Me. I'm the one who destroyed everything..."

"Don't you mean 'we'?" asked Corin from the other side. "I'll be standing up there with you tomorrow. I'm part of that, too."

"No!" the Doctor shot back. "This isn't your fight, Corin." Knowing unerringly what was behind the protest, he went on, holding up a hand to silence his twin. "Yes, they're your memories, too, and if I weren't here to answer for them, you could make the case that it's your responsibility. But I am here. And it was this body that made them, that took those actions. It doesn't make any sense at all, from any angle, to hold BOTH of us accountable. It would be like... punishing both Donna and Tyler for Tyler's crimes. Besides..." He stood up and walked over to Corin, dropping his voice to make his case. "I need to know that you'll be here to take care of everyone if the worst happens."

"What do you mean, the worst?" Rosita pounced from a few steps away.

"Please, Corin," he went on, ignoring his bondmate. "Stay out of it." Corin hesitated a moment longer, wanting – _needing_ – to own the memories that made him, but his twin was right, and after a moment he capitulated, nodding silently.

"_What do you mean, the worst?"_ Rosita would no longer be ignored, stalking up to the Doctor and placing her hand on his arm, fear widening her eyes. He turned to her, then, and wrapped his hands around her waist.

"If the decision goes against us, there's no telling what action they might decide to take. There's not exactly any sentencing guidelines for this sort of thing. They might do almost anything. One time, they even forced me to regenerate. Though I'd like to see them try that now..." his voice trailed off in wry amusement, acknowledgment of his continuing inability to completely regenerate.

"I wouldn't," his bondmate replied flatly. "That's not funny, Doctor."

Lady Rose broke in. "What do you mean, _anything?_" She didn't want to say the word she was thinking, but Corin, of course, picked up on it, and shook his head.

"Time Lords have never had capital punishment, love. But over the centuries, they've done just about everything up to it." He turned to Romana. "Had the colony come up with any kind of civil or legal code? Or is it assumed you're still following the old guidelines – such as they were?"

Romana scoffed. "This is the first time we've had any need of _any_ kind of legal nonsense. Up till today, nobody has so much as... picked up a seabird egg that didn't belong to them. The question just hasn't come up." Her glance took in both Roses, and she shook her head. "There's not really very much they _could_ do, though, under the circumstances. Just tear the colony apart." Her voice was as bleak as the snow they'd left behind on the peaks of New Gallifrey.

"I'm sorry, Romana," the Doctor told her. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have stepped into his trap like that."

That got him a fierce denial. "No! The only blame for this situation lies with Kaphir, not you."

"Excuse me," a new voice broke in to the silence following Romana's pronouncement. Donna and Tyler had been mostly quiet all evening, just soaking in the impressions of their new extended family. The redhead couldn't keep still now, though. "Shouldn't we be, like, planning a defensive strategy or something?" Visions of exciting courtroom dramas were almost visibly playing behind her eyes.

While most of the others were nonplussed at the question, Corin shook his head immediately. "Time Lord trials aren't like that, sweetheart. It's not an adversarial stage show, like human trials. What happens instead is each individual, which includes everyone involved, shares their memory of the events directly – I mean, telepathically – with the TruthSeeker, who has the ability to tell truth from fiction, and can dig down until the true memory is found. Even if someone truly, sincerely believed their memory was correct, if it wasn't, and was a false memory they'd constructed for themselves over years or centuries, the TruthSeeker will know it, and dig up the truth. After everyone has testified, the TruthSeeker puts it all together into a single narrative, and shares it directly with those who sit in judgment."

"And all that's left is determining what, if any, laws have been broken, and what the punishment should be." The Doctor finished the explanation, then turned to Tis'hania. "Mother, are you certain about this other TruthSeeker? Can you truly vouch for her?"

Tis nodded. "Absolutely. The only reason she didn't take the final vows was because the Time War intervened – which disrupted rather a lot of things," she added drily. "I only took on a handful of pupils over my entire life, and then only the best. Felisara was the best pupil I ever had. I can think of no other I'd prefer to have as my own TruthSeeker."

The Doctor nodded, satisfied. "Then it rests with the citizens, and how they'll react to the revelations. Or do they already know about what really happened in the Chamber during the War? Has it been discussed, these past six years?"

Tis shook her head, sadly. "No. We left the past back on Old Gallifrey. Or so I thought."

"But..." Donna was still troubled. "Can't you even offer reasons, justification for what you did?"

"Yes," Tis'hania answered her. "After the truth has been determined and shared, there is an opportunity for each of the accused to speak on their own behalf, or for others to speak either for or against them, but it is limited." She gave a ghost of a smile. "We don't believe much in excuses."


	27. Testimony

**Testimony**

The following morning, word came through the telepathic network that all was in readiness, calling everyone to the left-hand communal house. Datherion had been helping the citizens since early morning, preparing both courtroom and jury, and now met the others in the Doctor's extended family partway up the hill, leading them silently inside and to their designated area.

The interior had been empty since it was moved from Gallifrey; now it was transformed. All the partition walls had been knocked down, leaving a single room end to end, studded with weight-bearing posts still holding up the roof. Ranks of benches and seats of all kinds – whatever was available – had been brought in from the common and surrounding houses, filling both ends to face the center. While the citizen jury was filling in one end, Datherion led his group to a small cluster of benches on the other, separated from the main group – the Councillors – on that side by a large gap.

The center portion, now raised on a platform of varying heights, contained different furniture. On one side, raised above everything else, was a long table, with three chairs behind it, their backs against the wall so that whoever sat there could look left towards the two groups of accused or right towards the massive jury. Facing that table was an open cube, framed on each edge by wooden beams, ten feet in each dimension. Within the cube, its back against the other side wall and facing the high table, was a single large chair, while directly in front of it, and facing it, was what on Earth was named a prie-dieu: a very low bench to kneel upon with an attached railing at the kneeler's waist height for their forearms' rest.

The five directly charged by Kaphir: the Doctor, Tis'hania, Romana, Joshua, and Presonne, all sat together on the first bench in their little section, with their family behind them. Rosita, her face pale, immediately took the seat directly behind her bondmate, and Brandon, who'd been glancing at her frequently on the way up, moved to sit next to her. He took her hand, and she smiled absently at him for the proffered comfort – but then he slid his fingers down to her wrist, checking her pulse and frowning. Her smile changed to confused annoyance.

"I'm concerned about you, Mama Rose. You're not yourself."

"I'm worried, that's why!" She firmly removed her wrist from his inspection.

"Rose," his voice was low, just between them, but firm. "I know you think of me as that little boy you left behind on Serenity a few weeks ago, but I assure you, I'm a fully qualified physician on this end of history. And as a physician, I want you in the clinic as soon as this is over. You're _not_ OK."

Exasperated, she gave him The Look, then pointedly turned her head away, taking in the stage. He snorted at her stubbornness, but let it go. For now.

Behind them, Corin was explaining the procedure to Lady Rose and their two other kids. "Today is likely to be very boring, but it's important to be here anyway. That setup," motioning to the chair and prie-dieu, "is for the TruthSeeker and the witness. The testimony is given telepathically, of course; no-one save those two will hear anything. After everyone is finished – and that could take _hours_ – the TruthSeeker will go into seclusion for several more hours – possibly overnight – to put it all together into a single, coherent narrative, which she'll then present to everyone."

"I still don't understand how this TruthSeeker business works," commented Tyler. "I mean, people hear what they want to hear, see what they want to see. Scientists have been proving that – remember that experiment with the guy in the gorilla suit wandering through a basketball game, and half the people watching don't even see him? How can she dig down through that kind of selective memory?"

"Humans are that way, yes. Time Lords are trained from a very early age to be utterly accurate observers of even minute details. Remember how you used to test me when you were kids?" Their version of treasure hunts had been to take half a dozen ordinary objects at random and move them all around the house, then ask Dad where they were a few hours later. He never missed a single paperclip. (_Which_, mused Tyler, _is exactly how he had known, instantly, that the missing cufflinks were missing._)

"Even so," Tyler countered. "There's bound to be huge differences in different people's memories of an event. How can they be reconciled?"

"Through a whole _lot_ of training, son. It takes _decades_ to become a TruthSeeker."

He was about to continue, when Dashok, resplendent in a plain long black satiny robe (borrowed from Datherion's wardrobe), walked into the center of the room and raised his hands for silence. On getting it, he gently pressed two sides together of the hand-sized black cube he was carrying, then placed the cube on the table. "These proceedings are being recorded; sight, sound, and telepathy. I am Dashok, healer. I have been elected temporary President, to conduct this trial. We are gathered here to discover the Truth, in the matter of the ending of the last Time War, and the setting and breaking of the Time Lock that held Gallifrey therein."

He paused a moment, then gave a ghost of a self-conscious smile. "I am no great orator, and the trappings and high ceremony that a proceeding such as this would have seen in our triumphant past are better suited to that past, and inappropriate in our current, much rougher circumstances. We will cut, instead, to the raw heart of the matter." He nodded towards the Doctor's father. "Lord Datherion has kindly provided us with several items from his TARDIS, including the recorder, and..." Turning, he swept his palm past the testimonial cube, and the sides of the cube darkened slightly as a force field enveloped it. "... psi-dampers. Several of us have tested the dampers, and are confident that no one will be able to either hear or influence the testimony given. Is there anyone here who wishes to test it for themselves before we begin?"

A slight rustle swept through the crowd, but no one spoke. Dashok nodded. "Likewise, I think you all have heard by now about Felisara, and how only the invasion of the Daleks kept her from taking her final vows as a TruthSeeker. Is there anyone here who wishes to challenge her standing as TruthSeeker for this proceeding?"

Again, no one spoke. "Then we will begin."

Two other elder citizens rose and made their way to the table; co-judges with Dashok. All eyes, however, were drawn toward the side door, where Felisara had suddenly appeared, resplendent in a spotless robe of gleaming white. As she made her way to the waiting chair, the Doctor leaned over to whisper to Tis'hania playfully, "Where'd she get the robe?"

"It was mine," came the reply. "I'd left it in your father's TARDIS, ages ago."

He snorted softly. His eyes softened as memories washed over him. "You know, growing up, I used to be a little afraid of you in that getup. It was the only thing that kept me in line, sometimes," he added speculatively. He glanced over to share the amusing secret with his mother, catching her mouth quirk in return. "And you knew it!' he realized. "Oh, madam. _That_ was _not_ fair!" he chided, all wounded boy-child dignity.

She turned to arch an eyebrow at him. "You speak to _me_ of fairness, Chethonal? You just admitted it was the only thing that worked. I needed every advantage I could get, raising you!"

They quickly wiped the shared amusement off their faces as Dashok announced, "We will begin by setting the stage, as it were, with the status of the war over Gallifrey in those last hours. Lord Presonne, Commander of the Seven Armies, come forth to present the Truth!"

The others in the group sat still, stoically impassive; no need for any encouragement to one of their own. That the Truth was on their side was the obvious intended message to the remainder of the chamber. Presonne, his face carefully blank, rose from his seat and stepped solemnly up onto the stage and through the barrier into the testimonial cube. The sides had remained darkened, so that while the shadows of the inhabitants could be seen, no details of facial expressions or words could be read from their lips, nor did any sound escape. The audience could see he remained standing for several moments, obviously going through some preliminaries, before kneeling on the prie-dieu, folding his hands on the railing. The TruthSeeker leaned forward slightly, placing her palms on either side of his face, and both closed their eyes. There they remained, unmoving, as time ticked slowly away.

Corin had been right, of course; the day was unutterably boring. After Presonne, two citizens were called, who – either as fighters or having been in a position of authority – likewise knew of the status of the invasion and the destruction of Gallifrey. Then they turned to Kaphir (swaggering into the cube with an air of ownership), then went through a dozen more Councillors seemingly chosen more or less at random. Tis'hania whispered they were likely building the picture of all that had transpired within the Council Chamber, both before the Lock had been applied and certain events after. The Doctor glanced aside at her, curious, before realizing that quite a bit had happened after all: all that had lead to the Master's temporary breaking of the lock, his and Rassilon's fight to the death after it had been reinstated, the sending of the SOS message, Joshua's and Rose's arrival, and the mad dash through the final crack after the Lock had been destroyed. _With all that to go through, it's a wonder things are moving as quickly as they are,_ he thought, though he knew from vast experience one could share a memory of an event in a fraction of the time it took to live through it, or even describe it verbally.

(A short time after Presonne had entered the cube, three of the citizen jury quietly circulated through the room, gathering up the children – already beginning to twitch restlessly – and taking them just outside to play. They could be heard occasionally throughout the day, their happy noise drifting through the unshuttered windows with the breeze, making a stark contrast to the solemnity reigning within. They were well-trained children, however, and didn't get out of hand; even maintaining a decorous silence on the occasions they individually snuck back in for a few moments for a bit of parental reassurance.)

At last, the Councillors were done. Dashok stood again, receiving the TruthSeeker's nod, and called the next name on his mental list (agreed upon early that morning). "Doctor, son of Datherion, come forth to present the Truth!"

The Doctor had fallen silent, brooding, some time before. Now he took a deep breath and stood, walking to the cube with – to those who knew him best – the weight of the universe almost visibly riding his shoulders. As he stepped through the barrier, all the little rustlings and whisperings from the restless audience instantly died away, and he faced the TruthSeeker stoically.

"Have you ever testified to a TruthSeeker before?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever testified to these events before?"

"No."

"Have you recorded these memories in any way?"

"N – Yes," he corrected himself midstream, remembering. "Immediately after the Lock was placed, I didn't want to remember the details. I gave the memories to my TARDIS, locked in an autogenous psi-lock. I retrieved them, complete, many years later – about fifteen years ago now."

"Could they have been modified in any way, by any other individual, including your TARDIS, during that time?" She was concerned.

"No." The TruthSeeker considered for a moment, then accepted the assurance.

"Have you shared these memories with anyone, before or since?"

"Yes. I shared them with my bondmate, very soon after retrieving them, during our LifeDreaming."

"Have you dwelt on them to any degree at any time?"

"No, not even last night."

"Are you giving this testimony of your own free will?"

"I am."

"Do you understand that I will dig as far as I deem necessary to find the Truth, and that you may not close any part of your mind against me, nor keep anything secret but your True Name?"

"I do."

"Do you also understand that I am under solemn oath to NEVER reveal anything not directly related to the matter at hand by any means? That after the compiled Truth has been entered into the Record and accepted, that I will erase from my own memory every individual's details, so that only the compiled Truth remains?"

"I do."

"Do you have anything else to say before we begin?"

He took another deep breath. "Only this: these memories are very painful to me. I don't want to remember them, I don't want to share them, but I recognize the necessity of doing so, in service of the Truth. I beg the TruthSeeker's understanding for any strong emotions that may surface; and vow that I will try to control them as best I can."

She gazed solemnly at him, a hint of compassion showing through the formal facade. "It is understood. When you are ready, we will begin."

The Doctor took another unsteady breath, then kneeled upon the low bench (a tiny part of his mind sending a flash of gratefulness towards whoever had thought of the cushion), resting his forearms on the railing and clasping his hands together. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and nodded. Her soft cool hands touched either side of his face, and all the world retreated.

_*Show me.*_


	28. Echoes

**Echoes**

The TruthSeeker's mind disengaged from his own as her hands dropped from his cheeks, and the Doctor took a long, shuddering breath. Giving his testimony had been both rougher than he'd expected, and strangely easier. As each incident had begun its dread replay, all the dark emotions he'd piled atop it over the decades since came screaming out of the dark corners of his soul, but then, mentally anchoring himself with the TruthSeeker's cool, detached presence each time, he had paused, letting the roiling cloud roll over and past, and then simply allowed the scene to play out as if watching it on TV. The emotional distance she thus helped him achieve was an incredible relief, more than he'd been able to do himself in all this time, even with Rose's loving, forgiving assistance. And he'd been able to recover his original state of mind at the time, acknowledging in a flash the valid reasons and justification for each action, each decision, without the looming shadow – ever-present in hindsight – of then-unforeseen consequences poisoning the picture.

Thus, his part in each chapter of the story being gathered had been entered into the Record. The race against time and Rassilon to the Eye of Harmony. Meeting both Romana and the young Joshua (though he hadn't known of his identity at the time) inside the Vortex and all that occurred therein. The dash afterward back to the surface of Gallifrey, dodging debris and his own self of minutes earlier. The realization, after spinning his TARDIS into the Void, that his mother had been trapped within the Lock. Depositing the memories in the TARDIS. The entire incident with the Master years later, when the Lock had been temporarily broken, and Tis'hania had again given him the key – and his heartbreak at having to send her back, as well. The personal hell of madness he'd descended into after that, and the long climb back out, with Rose's help – though that part he'd been allowed to skim over, just giving the broad outlines, as it didn't necessarily pertain directly to the matters at hand. And finally, his minor, peripheral role in the final breaking of the Time Lock, waiting on the outer edge of the Porterion Nebula as the inexorable tide of time flooded through, wiping out everything in its path. The TruthSeeker stayed with him long enough to get Rose out of the Baby TARDIS and back into his arms, allowing that incandescent joy to wash through them, before stopping the memory.

_*How was it that you – and all the others – were in this alternate world at the time? How did your 'twin', and Joshua, come to be?*_ she asked.

He hesitated, searching for a logical starting point, then gave a mental snort. _*Through a very, very long chain of events, that in my opinion has no bearing on this matter. Is it really needed here?*_

She paused, considering. She'd caught enough of his lightning-fast review to get the flavor of it, if not the details. _*No, not at this time. If needed, we'll return to it later.*_

Another pause, as he felt her placing all he had shown her into her framework. _*Do you have any other testimony to add?*_

_*No, TruthSeeker.* _And so she had disengaged.

The Doctor slowly came back to himself physically, awareness of his aching knees and elbows creeping into his mind along with the cool draft on the back of his neck. He counted to ten again, finding tense muscles and forcing them to unclench, then at last opened his eyes. Felisara was just opening hers, as well, and he caught a glimpse, again, of her personal concern underneath the detached, impartial TruthSeeker overlay.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice husky with gratitude. _Thank you for giving me this balance, this release._ He didn't send it, but she saw it in his eyes, and nodded once more, before pulling the formal shutters tight over her own eyes once again.

He pulled himself to his feet, feeling as though he were trying to reconnect with individual nerves and muscles from a distance of lightyears, and rubbed his face as he turned and walked stiffly out through the psi-damper. Immediately, hyper-awareness of the close to two hundred pairs of eyes laser-focused on himself snapped back into place, and he involuntarily paused a microsecond – long enough for some to see it.

"Now _that's _a guilty expression if I ever saw one..." came Kaphir's silky, insinuating whisper.

That _did_ cause the Doctor to halt, and he shot a level look straight at the former Councillor, letting his gob momentarily slip the leash. "Unlike some, Kaphir, I _do_ have a conscience. And yes, I grieve for every individual harmed through any action of mine, no matter who or what they are, or how minor the harm. I don't deny it." The realization struck him even as he spoke it aloud. "I welcome it. It makes me who I am. But that doesn't mean _any_ of my actions were _ever_ unjustified." And, holding his head high, he turned his back on Kaphir and walked back to his seat with every ounce of dignity his parents had ever displayed. Those two, and the others there, did nothing to detract from it, honoring him instead with their silent stillness and proud expressions.

The other three were called, one by one; Lady Romana, Lord Joshua, and Lady Tis'hania last of all ("Lord" Joshua's amused eyebrow causing the Doctor to note absently that the honorifics had been restored at some point during the day – except for his own, not that he'd ever been so addressed to his recollection). By the time Tis'hania sailed serenely out from the cube it was late in the Pacifican afternoon, and Dashok, after a low conference with the TruthSeeker, released everyone from the hall, saying they would reconvene in the morning to hear the combined Truth.

On the way down the hill to where the two TARDISes were still 'parked', Corin pulled Datherion away from the silent group. "I, uh, have need of your assistance."

"What is it, son?"

Struggling past the miniature wave of euphoria at the word, watching it crash against a wall of harsh reality, Corin gulped. Unable to meet his father's eyes, he went on, hesitantly. "I... didn't even realize it until recently, but... I've lost most of my telepathic abilities. I won't be able to 'hear' the TruthSeeker tomorrow, nor pass it along to Rose or the kids. Can you feed it to me?"

Datherion, watching his face, was listening to the subtext along with the words. "Of course I will." Then, softly, "Was I _really_ that hard on you growing up?"

That got Corin's attention, and he looked straight back. "Yes," he finally answered. "Yes, Lord President, you were."

The use of his old title set him back, as intended, and he looked back across the years again, seeing scene after scene of lectures and demands and disapproval, trying to understand his wayward son and failing, time after time, falling back instead into formality and authoritarianism.

Corin, watching him as he thought it through, saw for the first time their relative age differences, and realized on a gut level how much older he was now than his own father (including the Doctor's nine hundred years as his own, of course). Suddenly, he felt ancient; Datherion couldn't be more than five hundred, even with the unknown 'two centuries, more or less' he'd been lost in this alternate world. Realistically, one might think that after a couple of centuries, it wouldn't matter any more; mature was mature. Guts, though, don't work on realistic time frames, and neither does maturity. Or wisdom.

Finally, Datherion looked back at him again. "I'm sorry. I... just didn't know any other way to be."

^..^

Walking hand in hand with the Doctor, as always, Rosita stumbled over a buried rock in the path, a sudden wave of exhaustion taking her almost to her knees before she found her feet again. Her bondmate instantly tightened his grip on her hand, steadying her and helping her back up.

"Sorry," she said with a small, apologetic smile – gaining a bit of traction a moment later with a stray memory. "Bit wobbly there," she prompted him, expecting him to come back with his habitual bit about propping her up. When he merely smiled absently and continued on, her expression turned puzzled, and she opened her mouth to say something – when suddenly she remembered that it was _Corin_ she'd had that regular exchange with, not the Doctor, ever since the first day on Bad Wolf Bay beach.

She shut her mouth with a pop, following him into the TARDIS, glad she hadn't said anything. _Been a long time since I've made that mistake. I must be tired..._

^..^

Joshua had hung back a bit, watching the others go ahead from the top of the path, waiting as Romana collected her girls from the makeshift creche. They swirled around him all giggling girlish delight, telling him and Mum about the colorful insectoids they'd been capturing live then releasing, showing him the drawings they'd made of them during their brief captivity with the paper and color sticks he'd donated from Baby's stores.

He realized suddenly that Romana wasn't beside him, and turned back to see she'd stopped several paces back, staring behind her at the village settling into the evening. A subdued air hung overhead, replacing the usual happy chatter (both verbal and non) with an air of watchful, distinctly uncomfortable waiting.

Waving the girls to skip on ahead, he took the few steps back to her, not really startled to see the tear on her cheek. She looked at him wordlessly, mute mourning for the innocent past warring with fear of the unknown future.

He reached one tentative hand and cupped her cheek, realizing for the first time that he was only a couple of inches taller than she was now (_Just the right height!_ seemed to echo, very dimly, from somewhere impossibly far back in his past). When she didn't move, didn't protest, he slowly leaned forward, touching his lips to hers, letting his dreams take flight under the scarlet sunset.

After a slow sweet kiss, full of promise, they broke apart, searching each other's eyes briefly for the twin reflections of their own hearts, then Joshua reached down and took her hand, and wordlessly they turned and walked on down the hill, together in the gathering dusk.


	29. Tempered Truth

**Tempered Truth**

The atmosphere the following morning was overlaid with an ominous silence, completely at odds with the bright sunshine overhead. It took Romana a few extra seconds to pin down what was making her so jumpy: the community telepathic network was as silent as the people. For the first time in six years, no one was 'broadcasting' their state of mind, let alone the subvocal chatter usually ever-present on the net.

As they took their seats in the hall, Joshua glanced around at the others, focusing on his pure human – and therefore mindblind – siblings. "Brandon!" he whispered, and spread a hand in their direction. "They're not going to be able to 'hear' the presentation; can you pass it to them?"

"Sure!" replied their cousin, trading places with Tyler to sit between them (and missing the amused shrugs shared by Corin and Datherion).

"Why wouldn't we hear it?" asked Donna.

"Because it's telepathic," Corin supplied. He grinned at his younger children. "You're in for a treat. It's going to play out like a movie, but inside your own mind. It may be a bit confusing at times, but remember this: portions put together from two or more testimonies will likely be shown in the third person, like you're a separate observer. Portions from a single testimony, though, will be from that person's point of view; it's their personal memory, after all."

"Best test this," whispered Brandon. He put a hand on each of their forearms and closed his eyes. _*Are you receiving this?*_ his voice whispered in their minds, sounding like his audible one.

Donna smiled at the picture that appeared behind her eyes, of a man and a woman toasting each other with large goblets of sparkling red wine, smiling lovingly into each other's eyes. *_Who's the happy couple?*_ she tried just thinking the question to see if it would work.

It did. *_My mother, Jenny, and her bondmate, the one and only Captain Jack Harkness. That was their fiftieth anniversary party. Tyler, you there?*_

_*Yes – I even heard Donna. This is pretty cool!*_ He sounded a bit hesitant, though, belying the words, and Brandon smiled.

_*Takes some getting used to. Hush now.*_

They reopened their eyes to see Dashok taking the stage in the middle of the hall. He raised his arms for silence, and got it, then pressed the sides of the recording cube and placed it on the judges' table. "We are once again gathered, to receive the combined Truth in this matter. TruthSeeker, are you prepared?"

"I am," came the serene reply, as Felisara appeared in the side doorway, looking tired but calm. She made her way to the large chair inside the testimony cube (the prie-dieu had been removed during the night) and sat carefully, arranging herself against the support, then nodded to Dashok.

He waved one hand past the side of the cube again, this time palm out, and the sides of the cube flashed slightly brighter than the ambient air as the psi-dampers were switched to the opposite position, reinforcing the telepathic broadcast from within the cube rather than blocking it.

The TruthSeeker's mental voice rang in everyone's mind. *_Be silent, all who gather near, and hear this combined Truth.*_

_^..^_

_*Let the record begin with this recitation of the status of the Time War against the Daleks in the closing minutes thereof, the beginning of the matters in question. Be it known that, although this record uses the words of one witness to represent all, each word has been verified against other witnesses.*_

Gallifrey.

The planet hung in black space, slowly revolving as it had done since the dawn of time.

But no longer serene and beautiful.

Firestorms raged across the surface, visible even from space, leaving naught but black char behind. A massive cloud of tiny dots buzzed the atmosphere, raining continuous infinitesimal bits of fire to add to the holocaust, stirring it ever hotter and wilder.

_*I am Lord Presonne, former Commander of the Seven Armies of Gallifrey. In the final year of the Last Great Time War, the Daleks had succeeded in driving across the universe, killing the Time Lords and destroying our ships wherever they were found, wreaking absolute havoc on any other species that got in their way, and creating and releasing unimaginable horrors: the Nightmare Child, the Skaro Degradations, and many others. On the last day of the war, they had brought it home to Gallifrey. The last, automated reports I received showed that every form of life on the planet outside the dome of the Citadel had been destroyed. All Gallifreyans were dead, save those few thousand within the dome. The Daleks were massed above, watching their "children" and preparing the final assault on the dome itself. All those within, the last few Time Lords left in the universe, by any measurable accounting were minutes away from death. And that is when Lord President Rassilon took the stage in the Council Chamber to announce his plan for the Final Sanction.*_

The scene in their minds shifted to the Chamber: a massive, six-sided hall with walls of rough-cut stone, ranks of ornate tiered balconies ranging far up the sides. In the center of the floor, spotlighted in a flood of brilliant white light, a man in ornate scarlet robes stood upon a raised dais. The mental picture shifted slightly, bringing the man into sharp, close focus, as he began to deliver an impassioned oratory. On and on he stormed, decrying their mortal enemies and vowing revenge, whipping the Councillors in his audience into a frenzy of manic, ultra-patriotic agreement. As he reached his crescendo, he offered a heaven-sent opportunity for eternal life, the only beings in existence, as "creatures of pure consciousness" - at the expense of the rest of the universe, and time itself.

As Rassilon continued, the scene shifted again, focusing now on two individuals moving discreetly through the crowd to converge out of sight at one side of the hall: Lady Tis'hania and Lord Presonne. There, they met a new arrival to the chamber: the Doctor, wearing his eighth face. _{Much later, Donna wondered aloud how it was that even she instantly 'knew' who everyone was; Tis'hania replied that identification of each person within the narrative was an automatic, nonverbal subtext of the record, same as the locations and times __involved.}_ The trio's low, intense conference played out, frantically searching for a way to stop the Final Sanction, until the Doctor turned to find his way below, while the other two, hearing the call for a vote on the motion, stared hard at each other, hesitating, then resolutely returned to their seats rather than escaping out the side door.

The scene blurred, implying time and movement, and another space came into focus: the Chamber of the Eye of Harmony with its three visitors from their different time periods; the Doctor, Romana, and Joshua. _{"Was I really that young?" the current, watching Josh whispered in his companion's ear; she snickered and squeezed his hand.}_ The audience on Pacifica watched and listened as the new trio realized the situation and made the wrenching decisions to combine their separate missions and continue – and when Romana, grasping the relationship between her two companions, which lay in the Doctor's future from that point, understood also that _she _had to stay behind to finish it, or the boy would never be born. The impact of the boy's passage of the impromptu Vortex test with such unprecedented ease was felt throughout the hall; no-one (of the Gallifreyans, anyway) missed the implications of the young Time Lord's accomplishment. The scene ended prematurely after the Doctor's exit and the placement of the Time Lock, melting away with an unspoken air of "to be continued..." and following the Doctor quickly back to his TARDIS.

As the time ship _whooshed_ away, the focus returned to the Council Chamber for the staggering concussion when the Time Lock clamped the sector in its unbreakable vise. Rassilon's face was a study in thwarted will, melting so swiftly into fury incarnate that many watchers physically flinched away from the vision in their mind. His wrath quickly settled on the two Councillors who had delayed the plan by voting against it: Tis'hania and Presonne; though he never found the proof they had been involved in the Lock, their obstinacy was enough. He forced the pair to kneel humiliatingly on the floor of the Chamber before the dais, and raised his metal-gloved fist, preparing to rip their atoms apart...

… and faltered, staring down at Tis'hania's serene face gazing calmly back at him, unafraid, unbowed. His fist slowly sank without volition, then, coming to himself with a start, he turned abruptly away, ordering them held under guard in an un-Locked antechamber. _{And everyone in the Doctor's section began to breathe again.}_

Kaphir and another of the Councillors called to testify had been on the Inner Council, so the testimony then followed the events in the President's small conference chamber, swirling around the ancient seer; discovering the Master's occult involvement, implanting the four-part signal into his subconscious mind at his childhood trial before the Untempered Schism, and then Rassilon's triumphant preparations for descending upon Earth when the Master returned the signal via the White Point Star.

The showdown around the Immortality Gate went amazingly quickly for such a momentous event. Since both the Doctor and Tis'hania had testified, and both knew it was she who had given him the answer of shooting the Star to break the link, that piece of information came through clearly to the audience.

Once more returned to the Council Chamber behind the reinstated Lock, the Master continued his lethal attack on Rassilon, and the two fought hand-to-hand until they fell, locked together in their final, fatal embrace, through the Chamber doors into the Lock itself and were frozen in mid-fall just outside.

The Record did not end there, but skimmed ahead through the century that followed. Kaphir, as Rassilon's trusted Second, was first voted into the Presidency to succeed him, until he burnt himself out with unceasing attempts to break the Lock or escape its grasp – or retrieve Rassilon's glove and enact the Final Sanction – none of which availed an iota of success.

Finally, some unknown and unknowable time later, after Kaphir finally gave up and retreated into brooding snark, the remaining overwhelmed, imprisoned Councillors turned to Lady Tis'hania. Having seen every wild, farfetched attempt at escape that any of them could envision fail utterly, she turned instead to sending for help. She organized them into teams, each one taking their turn at sending out a simple distress call on every available psychic "frequency". And kept them at it, year after dusty, half-lived year, as they slowly melted into one seamless, half-conscious dream. Until the moment came when, unannounced and unforetold, a nuclear-brilliant flash and ear-shattering boom in the center of the Chamber brought forth a lumpy, half-grown TARDIS coral with a trepidatious youth crouched inside.

Joined a few seconds and another flash/bang later by Rose, Joshua learned of the desperate situation from Tis'hania, and agreed to go below to try to break the Lock. The mental view of the Record shifted again with their TARDIS oozing away, returning to the interrupted scene in the Chamber of the Eye, and showed Joshua and Romana now preparing to do just that. She sent him on his way again at the proper time, and the view changed to the personal for the first time, as Romana set the delay timers on the three Stars, turned and RAN for the Council Chamber.

When she'd made it through the final crack and it slammed shut behind her, throwing her and the others nearby onto the ground with the impact, the mental picture returned to a wide view of Old Gallifrey, utterly engulfed in the final conflagration of the Last Great Time War – and then the massive wave of compressed Time swept in from the outer reaches of the nebula, transforming the sphere in a single cataclysmic instant into a black, lifeless cinder. Their beloved erstwhile home hung in their minds for an endless moment, slowly rotating in the churning solar winds of its twin suns...

… and then the vision faded away to black, and the TruthSeeker's own voice came again. _*Thus ends the record of this combined Truth.*_


	30. Reactions

**Reactions**

After several minutes of silence, as everyone absorbed what they had seen, Dashok again stood and walked to the center of the stage, facing the two groups of 'accused'. "Does anyone hold any objections to this record of the Truth, or have anything to add to it?" No one spoke. "Then does anyone have any final words before the jury retires to begin deliberations?"

A pause, and then, from the other side, movement, as Kaphir rose majestically to his feet, his expression showing more certainty and assuredness than ever. "Nothing _need_ be said, Lord Dashok. The guilt of these traitors, their treason and genocide, shine forth from the combined Truth for all to see!"

As he sat again amidst the murmurs of his supporters, Romana heard both Joshua and the Doctor, on either side of her, take a breath, and held up both hands without looking. "Don't say it!" she whispered with a tiny smile. The two of them glanced across her at each other and shared a grin, realizing they were about to make the same comment on Kaphir's belaboring of his own obviousness.

"Anyone else?" asked Dashok.

After a long silent moment, Lady Rose stood, her face white and solemn. Those nearest her could see she was trembling. "May I address the court?"

Dashok nodded, and she carefully stepped out of the row of benches and walked slowly to the center of the room, and spoke past Dashok towards the members of the jury. "If what I am about to say is beyond the bounds of what is usually permissible, I humbly beg your forgiveness. I cannot remain silent after what I just witnessed."

Then, surprisingly, she turned to face, not the jury, but the former Councillors.

"I speak not on my own behalf, nor on behalf of those who are here accused, but on behalf of the... " she faltered for a moment "... _unfathomably_ countless living beings throughout all of creation who faced instant annihilation at the hands of your former President and his Ultimate Sanction, that _you_ overwhelmingly approved."

She paused, faltering, again, shaking her head in disbelief. "How could you have even considered it for one microsecond? How could you possibly have had the supreme hubris, the ultimate gall, to believe that your few lives could _ever_ outweigh literally all the rest of creation, and time itself?

"These past few weeks I have done everything I could to help you, to ensure your continued survival, and you accepted that help with gratitude. I lived with you, laughed with you, worked with you, broke bread with you, helped you acquire this land to make a new beginning. I called you friends – and you returned that friendship, smiling into my face. And all this time, _this_ is the truth you were hiding behind those smiles?

"I am far beyond horrified. I am ashamed that I ever lifted one finger to help. And if _this_ is what the name Gallifrey represents, then I am ashamed to bear it."

She took a deep breath, then plunged on. "Before the Doctor and I were each twinned, we spent several years traveling together, having what I thought of as adventures. And everywhere we went we were _helping_ others. Righting wrongs. Fighting tyrants, and those who would imprison or take advantage of others. Liberating people of all kinds, and saving so many lives I can't begin to count. And I _loved_ every single minute. I was _proud_ to do it. But in all that time, I never understood the demons that always drove the Doctor on. Now I do. For today I saw those demons. And they wore your faces – every one.

"And I tell you this. If the actions that he and these others took that day to _stop_ you and your President, to _prevent_ that unspeakable crime, that act of ultimate evil... if those actions are now to be called _genocide__?_ … Or _treason__?_" The words hung in the air, heavy with disbelief, and when she spoke again, her voice was broken, low and intense.

"Then those words... have _no_ meaning."

She stared out at them, letting all her horror and disgust show at their blank expressions. Then, finally, unable to stay in the hall a minute longer, she turned and walked swiftly out the side door into the bright Pacifica sunshine.


	31. Judgment

**Judgment**

Utter, stunned silence reigned in the hall for several long minutes after Lady Rose sailed out the door, before Dashok rose to his feet a final time. "The jury will now retire to deliberate this matter. We thank you, Lord Datherion, for the loan of your TARDIS as a secure location. We will send word when we're ready to reconvene." With that, the citizens all rose and began filing out the door behind them, where Datherion's boulder-disguised ship could be seen on the grass outside, he having moved it there earlier in the day.

Corin stood quickly and slipped out the door after his wife, the Doctor and the others trailing behind. He found Lady Rose sitting on a rock beside the path down to Baby, staring out over the bay, and walked swiftly to her side, taking both her chilled hands in his and squeezing them before turning back to the others. "I'd just like to say one thing, here: that _that_, ladies and gentlemen, is why my wife _deserves_ her title Baroness."

"Amen to _that!_" cried Joshua, and several others shouted their approval, as well. Lady Rose, her emotions still dangerously off balance, blushed and gave her extended family a tiny smile, her gaze ending at the Doctor, who walked silently up to stand beside his twin.

"Thank you," he said softly. She gazed at him for a moment before simply nodding, then stood up, squeezing Corin's hands in return.

"Let's go for a walk," she said, and they turned to go down towards the point.

^..^

That night and the following day dragged slowly on, nobody doing much of anything while they simply waited for the jury to send word on the telepathic net. "I don't know whether it's a good sign that they're taking so long or not," commented Romana to the room at large – they were gathered in the kitchen, as usual, picking at a light lunch. Nobody had much appetite.

The Doctor looked pensively across the table at her. "I don't think one can reasonably make an inference as to which way any jury is leaning, based solely on the time they're taking. But I'll tell you one thing: even if the judgment goes against us, I for one would be much more able to accept a decision resulting from such a long discussion and (I hope) reasoned debate, than any five-minute snap decision."

While everyone was mulling that one over and agreeing, Corin looked at his twin. "I'm curious about something, though, Doctor. It certainly seemed to me that you were in there testifying for a whole lot longer than what was represented in that presentation of the Truth."

The Doctor nodded. "There was a whole LOT of stuff that got left out, my personal story during the intervening time, that I guess didn't have any real bearing on the core of the matter being decided."

Romana said thoughtfully, "That must be why the reason I was down in the Chamber was left out, as well, other than that brief mention during our conversation there – because it didn't bear on the Lock." She turned to Tis'hania and Presonne. "By the way, did you ever find out the actual cause of the time dilations? I never have asked."

They both shook their heads. "No, we never could discover anything at all. They simply stopped, and when a party was sent to look for you, the Chamber was empty of anyone and anything, even the Vortex. No clues were ever found to any of it," Tis'hania answered.

Before anyone else could reply, the Call they were waiting for was broadcast on the network. The jury was ready to present their judgment.

^..^

If anyone had thought the atmosphere was bleak the day before, they were quickly proven wrong. A palpable cloud of tension hung over the heads of everyone sitting in silence within the hall, and nobody so much as twitched as the citizens filed into their section once more, each juror's face carefully, completely blank.

Dashok once again stepped to the center and restarted the recording cube.

"This is the final judgment and sentence of the court in the matter of the close of the Last Time War. Be it understood by all, that each part of this decision was difficult... but in the end, unanimous, with no reservations held by any juror. Be it also understood that our first consideration in each case was for _the good of colony,_ present and future."

_(Joshua and Romana shared raised eyebrows at that. "I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not," he whispered._

"_For our side?" and she shrugged eloquently.)_

"The first judgment to be rendered is that of the charge laid against the former Councillors, that of conspiracy to commit – as it was so eloquently put – ultimate genocide, against the whole of creation, and time itself.

"For this charge, we find each of the accused... guilty. And, it should be noted, we were as horrified by the revelation as our visitor declared," and he nodded towards Lady Rose.

A rustling murmur swept through the Councillors, but none spoke up underneath Dashok's severe gaze.

"However, in deliberating on the appropriate sentence, we find no less than four mitigating factors.

"One: that at the time of this conspiracy, the space of half an hour, each of the accused were under the absolutely real threat of immediate, unavoidable extinction. Even the most saintlike beings can sometimes clutch at any straw under such circumstances, going so far in their extreme duress as to think the previously unthinkable.

"Two: that at the time, each was also under the demonstrated influence of a known dangerous, mesmerizing demagogue. To be frank, many of us outside the Council wondered for a long time how it was he was even allowed to return to power.

"Three: that a majority of those Councillors called at random to present testimony to this court – and therefore by statistical extrapolation, a majority of all – under circumstances in which everyone here knows it is _not possible_ to lie, demonstrated a true, deeply and long-held remorse for that decision. A century, it would seem, is ample opportunity for second thoughts.

"And fourth, as alluded to at the beginning, we judge that for the good of the colony, mercy and forgiveness is best extended to all. Every individual is needed, if we are to survive at all.

"For these reasons, and because we can think of no punishment we are able to exact more damning than that which every one of us has already suffered: the loss of our home, our planet, our society, our history, our technology, our ability to travel through time and space, even our extended lives; and also, for the Councillors themselves, an entire century of incarceration within the Council Chamber's walls, without contact or escape, without even the normal functions of a physical body... We note with irony that such was precisely the conditions you were electing to attain had Rassilon's Final Sanction been carried out successfully – and yet, every one of you spent the entire century struggling desperately to escape it. Ponder that, and decide if it would have been worth the end of all things.

"To supplement this list of already-accomplished punishment, we will add only this: that the record of this proceeding, and the record of their iniquity, shall stand for all time, and we shall contrive ways to pass the story on down through all our generations, as solemn warning of the dangers of absolute power."

Dashok paused to let that sink in, then turned slightly to face the smaller group.

"We now turn to the charges against the Doctor and his co-defendants. Three specific charges were leveled, that of genocide, that of the destruction of Old Gallifrey, and that of treason. We will deal with the genocide first.

"'Genocide' has always been known as the deliberate, willful, systematic destruction of any sentient species. Quite simply, we find no trace within the Recorded Truth of such deliberate intent on the part of any of these five defendants, either against the people of Gallifrey, or, for that matter, against the Daleks.

"Further, it was the Daleks who were the agents of genocide against our people, and who succeeded but for our pitiful band of refugees. Regardless of which side caused the war – or rather, which war – there is no question of their intent.

"Finally, although the collapse of the Time Lock brought about the annihilation of the Dalek race, again, we find no trace that such was the intended result of any of the various actions of the defendants. Nor can we find it within ourselves to weep for the destruction of our greatest, deadliest enemy, nor prosecute those who wrought it, even inadvertently. If any of these five suffer their conscience for it, that is far more than we require. We find them not guilty of this charge.

"Next, on the destruction of Old Gallifrey: again, we find no evidence of intent to cause that destruction, nor even awareness of the possible side effect in advance. Further, the 'destruction' wrought by the collapse of the Lock, such as it was, was only the least, final blow on top of the utter devastation already done by the Daleks in their final attack on the planet. By accepted testimony, all life of any kind outside the dome had already perished. The dome itself had fallen, and those remaining inside the shell were minutes from death.

"We find no reason whatsoever to hold any of these five accountable for the mere hastening, by a few seconds or minutes, of the Dalek's inevitable triumph from their grave. It is not as if anyone, let alone the planet's biosphere itself, would have survived had the Lock not been installed then dropped. On this charge: not guilty."

He paused again, taking another deep breath.

"Finally, we come to the third charge, of treason. Which, after we began deliberating upon it, we realized begged the question... " A beat, drawing it out.

"Treason against _whom?"_ Another beat, but before a riot could break out, he went on to supply the answer. "Against the government of Old Gallifrey. Which _no longer exists._

"We here in this colony may have originated from that society. We may be the heirs of that government. But we are _not_ that government. We are six years, and two planets, removed from it. _Our_ government, (such as it is), is a completely different entity, subject to completely different laws. And, to the best of our combined knowledge, _no_ government has _ever_ prosecuted anyone for the crime of treason against a _different_ government.

"We hereby decline to be the first to do so. The charge of treason is therefore dropped."

For a long, drawn-out moment, one could have heard a pin drop – from the other side of the village. Then the incipient riot hovering just out of sight threatened to roll over the hall – but Dashok took another deep breath and, in a tone of voice completely, shockingly out of character for the mild-mannered healer, roared them back to silence. _"I... Am... Not... Finished!"_

He waited a few beats for the echoes to cease, then went on as if he hadn't raised his voice a single decibel. "During the course of our deliberations, yet another issue was raised, which we will now deal with.

"Over the course of the past six years, since the beginning of our accidental exile, only one single law has been laid down. Until this week, it has never been broken. However, that is no longer true, and it is that transgression we now address.

"The law was this one, pronounced by Lady Romana on the sixth night after our arrival on New Gallifrey: that _no one_ shall pursue _any_ grievance carried across the Void from Old Gallifrey.

"Kaphir," and for the first time, Dashok looked directly at one of the audience, singling out the former Councillor with a laser stare, "in instigating this entire event, we find you _unquestionably_ guilty of breaking this law. In doing so, you nearly wrecked our entire fledgling society, bringing strife and division where none existed – at least, not openly, to the point that many of us feared for the complete breakdown of the colony. For this reason, we hereby sentence you to the same just punishment set forth by Lady Romana:

"Banishment, for life, not only from the colony, but from this entire planet."

He swiveled back again towards the Doctor's bench. "Lord Datherion, we ask that you accept this commission, to take the prisoner from this place within the hour, to a time and place of your choosing, and release him there. We don't care where, we don't care when, as long as it is far enough removed from here and now that he can _never_ affect this colony or our descendents again, for the rest of his life. Will you carry out this task?"

Datherion began to speak, but interrupted himself as he remembered one detail. "I will accept it, on one caveat: my TARDIS is now far too low on power since moving it up here for your use. I'll therefore be calling on my grandson to assist with the transportation."

Dashok thought a moment, then nodded. "That is acceptable, on one condition: that two members of the jury also accompany you to ensure the sentence is properly carried out."

He turned back again to the entire hall. "There are two further outcomes of our deliberations to be made public – two sides of the same coin, actually. That coin being that this colony, on the island of Gallifrey, on the planet Pacifica, is a free and open society. We neither hold anyone against their will, nor erect barriers against those who wish to stay.

"Those both require explanation. First, should anyone come, at any time, to the conclusion that they no longer wish to be part of this colony, they are of course free to leave – now that transportation is available," he added, sweeping a hand towards the masters of the two TARDISes. "Of course," a side note, "passage will have to be arranged individually with the owners of that transportation. But none of us want to keep anyone here who desires, for instance, to return to a less primitive or constricted lifestyle." Even if Dashok's eyes had not lingered in the vicinity of Kaphir's supporters, no one would have missed the inference.

"Second... the disparity has not escaped our attention between those who have, by and large, accepted the cure for the Malaise prophylactically," he swept a discreet hand behind him, indicating the citizens of the jury, "and those who have so far refused it," and his hand went across the former Councillors. "We considered, for a short time, setting that acceptance as a requirement for remaining in the colony, symbolic of the complete acceptance of our altered reality, but decided against doing so, for the simple reason I already gave: we are a free, open society, with no barriers to admission other than obeyance of the law.

"However... and please understand that this final point comes not from the jury, nor from me as President, but is my personal observation and comment as a Healer. As such, I remind you all that our best determination as physicians is that the Malaise will eventually strike every one of us not already treated, and I caution you that if you decide to wait until it is medically necessary, the venue for the cure may not be available at the time..." Sweeping a hand towards Joshua, he made the point clear: the owner of the TARDIS providing that cure was free to come and go whenever _he_ wished, as well.

"One final announcement before we adjourn: I have agreed to remain temporary President for thirty days. On the thirtieth day, we will hold an election to select our next leader, open to any who wish to be considered; which will give us all time to settle down again." Thus adroitly sidestepping the thorny issue of whether Lady Romana would be reinstated (or if she even wanted to be), Dashok reached for the recording cube one last time.

"The decision of the jury having been rendered, this record is now complete, and court is hereby adjourned."

A moment of stunned silence, then Joshua leaned across Romana. "Did we just get off on a technicality?" he asked the Doctor, beyond her.

"Yep!" came the reply. "And they got off on time served!" hooking a thumb toward the Councillors.

"Which makes us exactly even," Romana said slowly, appreciation for the delicate decisions showing in her dawning smile. "Oh, that was _masterfully_ done!"


	32. Causation

**Causation**

Late that same afternoon, the extended family were again gathered together for another celebration in Baby's huge, comfortable combined kitchen and dining room. Champagne was flowing as freely as the relief felt by each smiling member, that not only were all of them 'off the hook', but the colony itself was manifestly going to survive the crisis. The telepathic network was slowly, cautiously reviving, the subvocal atmosphere lightening by the moment in a benevolent feedback loop. A community-wide festival – restarting the one so abruptly terminated by Kaphir three days before – was planned for the following evening; everyone wishing for a quiet interval first to recover their equilibrium.

Datherion and Joshua, with the requisite two jury members along to witness, had whisked Kaphir off minutes after the end of the trial carefully tucked away in an entryless 'cell' created for the occasion on Baby's lowest level. A handful of other former Councillors, Kaphir's closest cronies, had also decided to pull up stakes and try their luck elsewhere. The pilots reported back they had taken them all to a heavily industrialized, densely populated planet a hundred thousand years into the future and on the far side of the galaxy, releasing them onto a busy street corner with a 'reasonable' supply of the local currency to get started with. The final offer of the cure for the Malaise had been politely refused, whether due to disbelief in their future suffering, or hope for another less personally costly cure, no one cared to inquire.

The two Time Lords then took a side trip on the way back to Pacifica, first to capture a gallinium-rich asteroid from New Gallifrey's orbit and 'toss' it into the side of a certain newly-active volcano far across time and space, then to deliver the gift of TARDIS coral, to-be-obliterated-and-ignored instructions, and the precious, tiny silver cup into the keeping of the primitive local inhabitants living near said volcano, to await the arrival of Datherion at the start of his long exile. Datherion then returned the cup to its owner, who carefully replaced it in the glass-fronted cabinet of treasures in his bedroom, his finger lingering on the filigree for a moment of bittersweet reverie.

On their return to Pacifica, Joshua moved Baby up to the village, tucking her into the corner next to the cottage Romana and Tis'hania shared. Winking at Datherion on the bridge, he hopped to the interior controls and made several quick changes, including moving the exterior doorway up to the top floor, and selecting a new setting on the chameleon circuit before leading the way outside. Rounding up the rest of the group, and making sure the Doctor was in the forefront, he led them back around the corner and made a production out of dropping the perception filter to reveal Baby's new disguise:

A very familiar-looking large wooden blue box.

"In honor of everything you've done, and continue to do, for everyone except yourself," he told the teary Time Lord.

"For a moment there, I thought you'd slipped back and brought my TARDIS across," he replied, ignoring the tribute as always. "But it looks a little different."

"Yeah, mine's actually accurate," Josh grinned, letting him off the hook with a sly dig. "I went back to 1950's London a few years ago and sat next to a real police box to copy it."

The differences duly cataloged, they trooped inside and all pitched in to make their own feast, diving into the pantry and pulling out or putting together their favorite noshes from across the galaxy. Finding a large bunch of his favorite fruit in stasis, the Doctor took charge of the blender and began cranking out banana daiquiris. Donna decided to indulge herself with a huge bowl of cookie dough, and drafted Belanna and Tasheira (everyone else taking an occasional hand, too) to help transform it into a mountain of cutout cookies in every shape and size, decorated with icings and sprinkles and colored sugars – and a few edible ball bearings that escaped the Doctor's greedy delight.

Datherion found himself near Lady Rose and Corin, and remembered the question he'd meant to ask the day before. "Could you explain something to me? I didn't quite understand something you mentioned in your amazing speech yesterday, about being ashamed to bear the name Gallifrey? How is it yours?"

Corin answered, "It's a human social convention: families share a single 'last' name, to show they _are_ related. Ours is Gallifrey. I took the full name Corin Gallifrey when we went to Earth, so when we bonded, she became Rose Gallifrey, and the children have it, too..." His voice trailed away at the expression on his father's face.

Datherion had blanched dead white, his eyes reflecting the jarring connection he'd just made for the first time. "You live on Earth..." Corin nodded. "On the outskirts of the city called London?"

"Oh, no!" cried Lady Rose, attracting everyone else's attention. "You were there, on Earth?"

Datherion nodded weakly. "Chasing the name Gallifrey. I traced it to a large house and the family that lived there. I even thought I'd caught the flicker of a bit of Time Lord technology when I jumped the TARDIS into the garden, but the moment I landed, part of my console blew up – again, and it blew me back about three hundred years."

"When were you there?" Corin asked.

"A very long time ago in my history, but for once, I can give you the 'local' date, because they were celebrating the beginning of a new year. I heard it while wandering around downtown before jumping to the house. Twenty-three-aught-two, they called it."

Breaking glass across the room made everyone jump, and they whirled to see Joshua staring at Datherion, ignoring the champagne glass that had just slipped from his nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor. "Oh. My. God. It was _you._ _You_ made it all happen!"

"What do you mean?" someone demanded.

Running both hands through his hair, Josh took a deep breath, his thoughts running visibly through his mind at lightning speed as he put the clues together. "Ever since you arrived here a few days ago, Baby's been trying to tell me she recognized your ship. I've been telling her, 'yes, yes, another TARDIS!' – and then, when we realized that a piece of her has been grafted into yours, I thought _that's_ what she meant. But it wasn't that at all! It was her _very first memory._ You _did_ catch a flicker when you landed there, Datherion, because it was your proximity, and your probe, that woke her up!"

He stopped suddenly, as another piece dropped into place. "No, wait... it was more than that! Holy _shit!_ It was a paradox – the bit of herself, half actualized, coming back to initialize the parent!"

"A paradox? Oh, my stars..." It was Datherion's turn to supply the next piece. "That's what blew up on the console: the paradox shield!"

The Doctor's eyes were nearly bulging out of his face. "And since your TARDIS – TARDISes, both of them – are made from a piece of mine, _that's_ what sent the signal through to the other universe, that pulled me and Jenny through, when I was put into the mirrors! The Sontarans were just caught up my TARDIS's bow wave!" He turned to stare, wide-eyed, at Datherion. "I wonder how much we missed you by?"

"Probably not by much – but as I said, I didn't stay there long. The paradox shield exploding bounced me backwards in time. I didn't think anything of it; that rock's been breaking down regularly on me for two centuries. It took me hours to fix the circuit, and by that time, when I came out of the TARDIS, the city was crawling with these metal men, rounding everyone up and herding them off somewhere, so I just decided to get out of there..." Datherion's voice trailed off again at their expressions. "Oh, don't tell me..."

His sons were staring at each other, openmouthed. "You mean..." Rosita voiced it. "He brought us across the very first time, too? When we fought the cybermen?"

The Doctor nodded slowly. Feeling suddenly weak in the knees, he sat down heavily at the table, staring again at his father. "So close... We were so close, so many times..."

"Well, Dad, you were right about one thing, that night in your living room!" Joshua looked Corin, his mouth twisting sardonically. "The plural of TARDIS is definitely Trouble!"

The Doctor was still staring, his awesome mind staggering at the implications. "If I'd just been paying attention – if my TARDIS hadn't died when we landed, so I could use her sensors... I could have found you then. So much would never have happened..."

"But it _had_ to happen, son, in order for him to be back there!" Tis'hania broke in. "For that matter, for _any_ of us, for _all_ of us, to be _here!"_ Holding his eyes, she sat down, too, and the rest of the clan gathered around the table. "Our entire history to this point is an incredibly long, intricate – and tangled – chain of cause and effect. If any single link had been broken... we wouldn't be here. I might still be back inside the Time Lock. Or the Lock might not have been placed, and Rassilon's Final Sanction enacted, and the universe destroyed! Or any number of other outcomes." She shook her head, reaching for her bondmate's hand. "I prefer this end to the story, son."

A very long pause, then murmurs of agreement began sweeping the table. The Doctor alone looked unconvinced, the reverberations of those near misses still pinging through his skull. "Would it?" he asked her quietly. "What if I'd reacted faster, that night on Earth, after the Master attacked Rassilon? He could have taken your place in the Lock, and it would have been balanced. I could have grabbed you, and dragged you out of it. I could have saved you then!"

"But then she wouldn't have been there in the Chamber to become President, and lead the way in sending the call for help," Romana reminded him. "No one else thought of doing that. No one else had the strength of personality to keep them at it. And if it hadn't been _her_ voice leading it, Joshua, her grandson, might not have heard it and followed it back. He wouldn't have been there in the Eye Chamber with us – and the whole chain breaks down again. I'm just as happy to be here, too."

Tis'hania nodded. "Without Joshua completing your triad, at the very least, the Time Lock is still in place, and Gallifrey is no more, in any universe. These other people here, this very colony, owes its existence to him." She looked straight back at her son, and reached across for his hand, too. "I would not want my life to come at the expense of theirs, knowing they were all still behind the Lock. I could never have rested until they were freed, as well. No, my son. Even with all the heartbreak along the way – for each of us, this _is_ the best of all possible outcomes." She squeezed his hand. "Let it go."

He gazed back, wanting so much to believe. Rosita, standing behind his chair, squeezed his shoulders. _*She's right, love. Let it go, this final bit of the guilt that's been poisoning your soul for far too long. Let it go.*_

Taking a deep breath, feeling like he hadn't breathed properly in a century, the Doctor forced a mental fist to open, feeling that tiny bit of tension drain away at long, long last. He nodded at his parents. "OK," was all he said.

Tyler spoke into the silence, hoping perhaps to ease the tension. "What was that other thing you said that night, Dad?" he asked Corin. "About causal time loops?"

Corin's face twisted. "I said I was glad I didn't have to deal with them anymore," he admitted ironically, wincing. "My head hurts!" he complained.

"Unfortunately, love, you forgot one thing," Lady Rose told him, laughter bubbling over once more. "You're the Doctor – part of him, anyway. You _are_ a causal time loop!"

Amid the laughter that swept the table, nobody noticed Rosita swaying, swamped by a wave of dizziness – and then she collapsed, unconscious, in a heap on the wooden floor.


	33. Effects

**Effects**

_*ROSE!*_

The Doctor's chair crashed to one side as he hurled himself out of it to crouch beside his unconscious bondmate, scooping her up and cradling her to his chest. "Rose?" He was barely aware of another crouching on her other side, reaching for her wrist and checking her pulse, then Brandon clutched both of their arms and called out, "Transmat! Clinic!" and the three of them were suddenly flashed to the medical bay four floors below.

"Doctor! Put her on the table!" He lurched up almost automatically in response, taking the two steps and stretching Rosita gently out on the exam table. Pulling his rarely-used stethoscope out of a deep inside pocket, he frantically began listening to her body systems, one after the other, registering on some periphery Brandon doing the same.

"I can't find anything wrong! She's fading, but there's nothing..." he almost sobbed.

"_Doctor..._" He finally looked directly at the younger man, and got waved gently back for his trouble. Brandon, all professional physician, got to work, setting up a transcutaneous saline drip and then giving her a hypospray of something – the Doctor sniffed automatically and recognized adrenaline. "Her blood pressure is dropping out. Keep an ear on her heart!" Reapplying the stethoscope to her chest, the Doctor listened to the precious two-part beat as if his own life depended on it.

Joshua made it down the stairs just then and dashed into the room, took one look and turned to a screen on the wall, madly making some kind of adjustments. The other two ignored him; Brandon continuing to get various life support systems ready for instant application, calling out for the oxygen content in the room to be increased – the Doctor nodded at him a beat later as his sensitive nostrils caught the O2 influx.

Just then, Rosita finally stirred, taking a sudden deeper breath and letting it out in a moan, and her eyes fluttered open. She tried to raise a hand – the Doctor caught it, holding it tight. Her eyes turned towards him, and a woozy smile crossed her lips. "Hello," she said breezily, like it was the funniest line ever.

Brandon suddenly raised both hands as if afraid to touch her. "Whoa," he breathed. "All her vitals suddenly sprang back to normal." He turned confused eyes on the Doctor. "What the...?" Instant peripheral reply ran past his eyes, and he turned accusing eyes towards Joshua, standing now watching from next to the screen. "What were you doing?"

"Putting the room on DC," came the nonsense reply. Both men stared at him, and he took a deep breath. "I changed the base harmonics in this room to match the Alpha Universe." That didn't seem to help. "The main difference between universes is the sets of base harmonic frequencies, in everything from the electromagnetic spectrum to sound waves across the entire scale to stellar tensor echoes. I tweaked every harmonic I could find to that of her universe." He looked sadly at the Doctor. "She's in the wrong universe, Doctor. She needs to go home."

"Are you sure about this?"

For answer, Joshua simply pointed to Rosita, breathing easily, her face tinged with normal color for the first time in weeks. It hit the Doctor only at that moment that she HAD been fading slowly, for a long time. He'd been too distracted to notice. That very bombshell made him unsure, needing to verify the answer. He turned back to Josh. "How can you be _certain?"_

Joshua sighed. "Because you told me. You're going to tell me – the young me, that while you were gone, she became very ill, but as soon as she got home, she bounced right back. That's the only thing you ever said about this trip. You stressed it, though – making sure I'd remember it, so I could tell you now, and close the last loop."

The Doctor turned worried eyes on Brandon, who shrugged. "I can't argue with his results. This is certainly nothing I did just now."

"We don't have to go right now, though, do we?" Rosita asked, sitting up on the table. "Can't we stay until tomorrow, after the colony celebration? I feel fine!"

Brandon quickly ran professional eyes over her, and nodded. "As long as you _rest_ until then!"

She nodded back, and swung her legs over the side. "Whoa!" Brandon cried. "What did I just say?"

She glared at him over her shoulder. "I am NOT spending the night on an exam table, when my own bed is five steps away! Besides, if he can change the frequencies in here, he can change them in our room, can't he?" She turned pleading eyes towards Joshua, and he snorted for her obstinacy.

"Yes, ma'am!" said he.

^..^

Reaching the top of the staircase again a few minutes later, Joshua was caught by Romana coming up behind him. "Putting the girls to bed," she answered his unspoken question. "Thank you, by the way." At his confused look, she grinned. "For turning our single room into a two-bedroom suite." He grinned back, and they turned towards the dining room. "Is she OK?" Romana asked him.

He waited a beat until they'd stepped through the doorway, instantly gathering the attention of the rest of the family, so he could answer them all at once. "She'll be fine," he announced, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. "She just needs to go home. She's in the wrong universe. They're waiting until tomorrow night, after the celebration, then I'll be taking them home." He saw the realization of the finality of the coming goodbyes hit each of them in return, and nodded sadly.

After a long pause, Corin took another breath and spoke up. "We need to be heading home then, too. Can you drop us off?" and Joshua nodded again.

Realizing the party was over, they slowly began cleaning up, none of them wanting to leave before the rest did. Short comments gradually became small talk, which began to take on flavors of summing things up and making tentative, unspoken wishes and promises for the future. Romana paused once, smiling up at Corin as she handed him a requested cookie. "I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but I'm going to miss you – both of you Doctors. You're the catalyst for so much that's happened in my life."

Joshua caught that from across the room, and stopped to smile at them, his eyes drifting past his father to Brandon... Corin and Brandon... twelve generations apart... The connection that had been trying for weeks to worm its way up from his deep subconscious mind finally seeped through, and he froze, gasping and gaping, for the second time that evening.

"Oh. My. God. That's it. That's IT! Dad! …. _You're the key!_" Corin started to shake his head, denying whatever it was he thought Joshua meant, but Josh rode over him. "No, not to the past, to the future! The colony's future!

"Listen: your descendants can mate successfully with _either_ species! Look at you and Mum – human, and then Ty and his descendants, ten generations _that we know of_, all happily interbreeding with humans. And then along comes John, the _eleventh Lord Gallifrey,_ and he and Jenny, a full Time Lord, have Brandon!" He took a breath, shaking his head. "Something in your cobbled-together metacrisis DNA, that you've passed down through the generations, is a.. a catalyst, that allows the owner's DNA to meld successfully with either species!" He paused a beat to let that sink in, then repeated, _"You're the key!"_

Stunned silence reigned for a dozen heartbeats. Then, "Well, then," Brandon drawled in his broadest, most laconic voice, crossing his arms with a supremely self-satisfied expression. "Good thing you've got the universe's foremost intergalactic genetic specialist on board, isn't it?"

^..^

The mood thus fantastically lightened, the party began breaking up for real a short time later, as Brandon collected new DNA samples from everyone in the room and then headed down to his lab for a gleeful all-nighter, telling Baby to put the coffee on. Joshua waved goodnight to his grandparents as they walked out the door, leaving himself and Romana alone behind the counter. Romana sighed, leaning on her forearms and gazing dreamily at her hands. "Do you really think it's going to work?" she asked without glancing at him, half wanting reassurance, half wanting to share the hope.

Joshua slowly nodded. "Yeah... I do. Of course..." Without looking, he slid a long leg sideways, slinking over right next to her. "You realize, of course, that there's only one way to actually _test_ the catalyst..." He looked slyly sideways at her, the tiny quirk in his mouth belying the deadpan.

One eyebrow arching to her hairline, she slowly straightened up, turning her head and giving him her coldest, most supercilious stare. "Get your catalyst..." she said levelly...

And then her eyes twinkled. "... into my bed."

"Yes, ma'am!" said he.


	34. Renewal

**Renewal**

The Doctor bounced into the dining room the next morning, a refreshed Rosita bobbing along in his wake - refreshed but not cured; the night's sleep in the adjusted harmonics had helped but was palliative at best, and they both knew it. But such concerns were for later. "Joshua! Do you still have that macro-kinetic extrapolator on hand?"

Josh blinked, thinking fast. "No," he finally remembered. "I gave it back to you, ages ago."

"Gaaaah!" The Doctor's face twisted, trying to come up with a plan B.

"But I _do_ have a spare transient reliability inhibitor..." Josh offered.

"Ooooo. That might work! If we can patch it through the temporal limiter and control the output with the quantum crystalizer..." He swung to Datherion. "Is your crystalizer working good?"

His father was bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"Accelerating the growth of your grafted-on coral, so it doesn't take years to recharge every time."

"Oh! … Uh, yeah, it's working."

"Brilliant! Josh, go get that inhibitor! Corin, got your sonic?"

Corin grinned and pulled it out of his pocket, twirling it around his fingers like a magician. Then he tapped Tyler on one shoulder. "Come on, son, let's go work on a TARDIS!" Good thing they'd already finished eating breakfast.

As the five of them trooped noisily out the door, Donna snickered over her coffee cup. "And off they go to admire their hot rods..."

The two Roses laughed aloud, but Tis and Romana just looked confused. "Hot _what?"_ asked Romana.

Lady Rose smiled. "Ahh – very fast street vehicles. But what she meant was, _boys with toys._"

Romana joined the laughter at that, but Tis was shaking her head (though she was still smiling). "Never underestimate the bonding power of _grease_ between boys of _any_ species. It's one of the constants of the universe."

She was right again, of course. None of the five "boys" _ever_ forgot that day. It wasn't one of dramatic insights or grand gestures, but it was filled with dozens of little moments, forging personal connections with each other. Each pair of father and son, especially, found things they shared and respected in each other.

Only once was the subtext verbally acknowledged, when Datherion happened to glance up from what he was fiddling with and caught the Doctor watching him speculatively. "What?" he asked.

"I was just thinking... I'm glad this happened now – in this incarnation." He snorted softly, shaking his head. "I doubt you would gotten along very well with most of the men I've been previously. Or vice versa."

Datherion considered. "It's been my experience, that things tend to happen when they're meant to happen, and not before. It hasn't been easy, waiting for this... but I couldn't ever just give up and stop searching. And... it's been worth it."

The Doctor smiled back at his father, easily, for the first time in his life. "Yeah." And they got back to work.

^..^

Late that afternoon the five mechanics emerged at last from Datherion's "rock", inhibitor installed and the coral already showing signs of responding. "It's still going to take several years to grow to the size you need it, but at least it won't take another millennium," the Doctor told Datherion. They each got cleaned up, just in time to join the start of the colony celebration. That festival, picking up from the interrupted one four days before, got off to a rollicking start when Brandon emerged from his lair with the spectacular news that he had, indeed, found the suspected catalyst in Corin's family's DNA – right down to his own, though he'd never realized it.

"Preliminary tests are promising, that I can graft it into the DNA of any Gallifreyan, and have it then be able to adapt to a human's."

As the implications sunk into the citizenry, that they would be able to intermingle with the coming human colonists from Earth, and so their people would continue through the ages to come (even if it was "diluted" as some of them murmured), a groundswell of renewed hope and plans for the future swept palpably through the telepathic network. Before the night was through, they'd decided to move their future annual celebration to this date, instead, and renamed it "Renewal Day".

Brandon had a smaller surprise, as well, just for the family. "I've already named the catalyst," he said, grinning at its originator. "Corinase."

The others began to approve, but Corin shook his head, tears unexpectedly prickling. "No. Not corinase. Cor_don_ase. Donna – Donna Noble – had as much to do with it as I ever did, even though she'll never know."

^..^

A short time later, Brandon had a quiet word with the Doctor and Rosita. "You know, this cordonase... could help you two, as well. Not too late to start a family."

Shocked, they stared at each other, testing each other's reactions on their link. "I hadn't thought about that," he whispered.

"Me, neither," she agreed. They came to the same conclusion at the same moment, and Rosita turned back to Brandon, shaking her head. "No. Not for us. You and Joshua were our kids."

"It feels too much like tempting fate," agreed the Doctor. Brandon was taken aback at their refusal, but he knew that look – on both their faces. He let it go. They knew where to come if they changed their minds. (No, in his memory they hadn't, but he knew better than almost anyone that memories can be changed if history is.)

^..^

All too soon, the evening ended, the celebration winding down as the hour neared midnight. The family had gathered again outside Baby, lingering and prolonging the inevitable, when suddenly Rosita swayed again – but that time, the Doctor was watching, and caught her instantly. She stayed on her feet, too, standing upright after a moment's breather.

The Doctor looked around, sadly, and forced himself to say it. "Time to go." Tis'hania, tears already starting unacknowledged, walked swiftly to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, holding her long-lost son tightly for one long, last, precious moment.

"Come back to me some day, now you know the way," she whispered.

"I will," he promised. She turned and gave Rosita a swift, hard hug, then resolutely turned away and walked swiftly to Datherion's TARDIS, unable to stay there and watch them go.

Datherion stepped up in her wake, putting his hands on both the Doctor's shoulders. "I'm proud of you," he said quietly.

A tiny gasp and huge round eyes were the only outward signs of how deeply his son had felt that, an electric jolt of pure happiness sizzling all the way to his toes. Wordlessly, he reached out and pulled his father into a long, tight hug. Then it was his turn to twist away and walk into Baby. Rosita took his place in Datherion's hug, then followed her bondmate inside.

Corin and Lady Rose then trailed past with Tyler and Donna, each one sharing a hug with their elder. "You're coming back, aren't you?" Datherion asked Corin.

"Oh, yes, many times. And you're welcome in our home on Earth at any time – either by Baby or your TARDIS. Have Josh show you how we keep in synch, and give you the coordinates," Corin replied.

A few steps away, Joshua threw caution to the wind and took Romana into his own arms, kissing her soundly. "I'm bookmarking this time and place as soon as I get inside. I'll be back within an hour, your time."

She looked solemnly at him. "Make it within a lifetime, too," she whispered.

"Within a day for me. I promise. And I _always_ keep my promises."

"You'd better." And she firmly stepped back, her unspoken message clear. A whole lot was riding on this promise being kept.

^..^

Returning his parents and siblings to the same evening they'd left the house, Joshua made those goodbyes quicker. "I'll be back in range of the superphone as soon as you catch up, in five days."

Lady Rose smiled up at her youngest (and oldest, now) son. "You were right, you know." She laughed gently at his confused expression, explaining before he had to ask. "On our way to SenSaru'a, when you told us about this 'mysterious trip' away from Serenity. You said that afterwards, it was as though the Doctor had been healed deep inside." She nodded across the room, where the Time Lord was shaking his twin's hand one last time. "You were absolutely right."

^..^

Rosita rode through the Medusa Cascade and back to Serenity in bed, the room spinning uncontrollably around her, suddenly too weak to raise her head. By the time they landed in their front yard at Larrik Hollow, she was nearly unconscious again. The Doctor picked her up easily and carried her out the door (Joshua quickly moved it to the same floor as their borrowed bedroom) and up the walk.

"No, Doctor, wait!" Josh called after him. "Not the house. Take her into the TARDIS, instead."

The Doctor shot him a dark, intense stare, but turned towards the barn without a word, carrying his bondmate into the old blue box and down the corridor to their old bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed and pulled the coverlet half over her, caressing her face with his other hand. Then, suddenly whirling around, he grabbed Joshua (who'd followed them inside) by the collar and yanked him out the room, pausing to close the door as softly as he could before almost slamming him against the corridor wall. "What aren't you telling me?" he nearly growled.

Joshua shook his head desperately. "Nothing. I swear. I only know that she's connected to the TARDIS – your TARDIS – somehow, like you are. That's all I know."

The Doctor wasn't buying it. "You've been acting like this is the last farewell ever since you came to get us, weeks ago. Something's going to happen, and I want to know what. Don't give me any crap about spoilers, dammit, _tell me what's going to happen!" _His voice cracked in desperation.

"I don't know what happened – will happen. None of us was with you, and you never told anyone about it. All I know is, you two were traveling, alone; you were gone a _very_ long time, and when you came back, she was gone, and you'd regenerated. You never said what happened." Tears were rolling down Joshua's cheeks. "All I can tell you is, it's not going to happen for a very long time yet. Not for _years_."

The Doctor could tell he was telling the absolute truth, that this was all he knew. He forced himself to drop his hands from the boy's collar and step back a pace.

After a long pause, Josh remembered. "Here," he said shakily, bringing a piece of coral out of one pocket, that he had prized off of Baby earlier. "So you can get back..."

The Doctor's face twisted. There was no need to say how, or how long it would take before the baby coral was ready to act as a power adapter and universal frequency selector. He nodded, reaching for the coral and stuffing it into his own pocket, flashing back to the day on the beach when he'd been the giver, before abandoning Rose and his twin to their fates. _So much has happened since that day, so long ago. So much..._

Joshua's heart was breaking, smashed into a million pieces. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was the last time he'd ever be looking into these brown eyes. Even if the Doctor did grow the baby coral out and return someday to Pete's World, that would take longer than the time he had left in this face. He'd be changed, by then. A new man, regenerated into a stranger. The Doctor, but not _this_ Doctor. Not _his_ Doctor. His second father.

He saw the same knowledge flicker in the Doctor's eyes, and without thinking launched himself across the corridor into his arms with a moan, the tears forcing themselves past his control and out across the floor. For several long minutes he couldn't speak, then managed to choke out, "I love you, so much. I never used to say it enough. But I always did, since day one. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know it. And I love you, Joshua. You're my son, in so many ways. And I'm so very proud of you." His arms briefly tightened even further around him, then slowly, inexorably, he pushed Joshua back, standing again with his hands on the younger man's shoulders – just as Datherion had done with him such a short time before. "But you've got a new family now to get back to. Don't think I haven't seen what's been going on between you and Romana – and those precious, beautiful girls. Honor me... by honoring them. Walk into your future, Joshua, and make – "

"Make every day count," Joshua finished the sentence with him.

The Doctor paused, then a tiny, wry grin teased the corner of his mouth. "I take it I'm going to start saying that a lot." Joshua nodded, unable to grin back. "Well... at least I know from the get-go that you'll hear it."

Everything had been said but the word itself, and they both knew it. Neither could say the word; neither ever, ever would, not to each other.

The Doctor made himself drop his hands to his sides, one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

And – absolutely _the_ hardest thing Joshua had ever done, save burying his son – Joshua pulled Baby's blue ball out of his pocket, squeezed his eyes tightly shut so as not to see the Doctor disappear, and as fast as he could, threw the ball down and drew her walls up and around him. He reached without looking and slapped the lever to spin her into the void, before collapsing on the cockpit floor, sobbing violently.

It was a very, very long time before he was able to make himself get up again and begin the journey back through the Cascade, one last time. But he did make it back within a day.

^..^

The Doctor stood, staring at the spot Joshua had disappeared from. He reminded himself sharply that _he_ was once again on the other end of history, and had, by Josh's own account, many years left to watch the young man grow up, starting tomorrow. He knew, though, what a precious gift this bit of foreknowledge was; that he would use it to treasure each remaining day, with every member of his family.

He turned and went back into the bedroom, glancing right as he always did, checking almost superstitiously to make sure the Rose he'd so vividly painted on the wall after the collapse of the Time Lock was still smiling her supernova smile. Then he turned and made to crawl into bed beside her, shrugging off his jacket and shoes.

His breath caught in fear-tinged wonder when he turned back towards her again. Her skin was glowing, ever so faintly in the dim light – glowing with the familiar golden luminescence of Vortex energy. It didn't intensify to regeneration stage, though, but seemed to sink deep into her tissues and disappear, completely absorbed, instead.

When he was certain it wasn't coming back, he began breathing again, and stretched out beside her under the coverlet, pulling her gently into his arms. She stirred slightly without waking, snuggling into him and sighing a long, deep sigh of contentment and comfort, and he knew she was healed of whatever had been making her ill.

"I don't understand what's going on." His whisper was the softest breath, stirring her hair so gently she never noticed. "I don't know what you are, aside from so utterly precious – and mine. I just know I don't ever want this to end. Ever."

He closed his eyes, and – astonishingly rarely for the Time Lord – sank swiftly into a deep sleep. Deep, but not dreamless. Instead, he slipped into the very dream Rose was having; flying – or was it swimming? – side by side with her unbodied consciousness through endless, fathomless darkness, watching the tiny sparks of life drift past, tasting heavenly music dance through their formless minds, soaring effortlessly ever on, searching for they knew not what.


	35. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Six decades later, on Pacifica_

_*Josh! Where are you? They're waiting for us!*_

_*Here I am, love! Just getting changed.* _"But they're not waiting for us, they're waiting for the moon, which will make its appearance as scheduled whether we're there or not."

Romana snorted at her bondmate in good-natured exasperation, then took his arm and strolled with him up the street towards the old common. The soft Pacifica twilight was luminous from the hundreds of old-fashioned candles slowly converging on the green, their flickering yellow glow competing with – and losing to – the cool white beams of two of the planet's three moons high overhead. The third, with the farthest and longest orbit, was still hovering just below the horizon to the north, waiting for the stage to be perfect before making its grand monthly entrance. All three moons were full overhead only four nights each year, marking the seasonal changes – and providing the new, festival-prone inhabitants of the planet with a built-in excuse for yet another series of celebrations.

"I spoke with Donna today," Romana remarked. "Guess what she's doing? All those wild rumors and falsehoods about the founding of Pacifica finally got to her, and she's writing a booklet to tell her side and put them to rest. She said to tell you to be sure and read the dedication, that you'd get a kick out of it."

Joshua laughed, rubbing his cheek with his free hand, but he didn't bother explaining himself, as they were coming now into the common. They joined the line to view the new tapestry on display under the protective roof of the pavilion, the third in the series being created by a dedicated group of village craftspeople to tell the story of the Last Time War, passing on to future generations the cautionary tale as envisioned by the mass jury six decades before. Made of materials from every imaginable source, including varigoat wool from Gallifrey, hemp from Earth, a sea plant from SenSaru'a, and a fibrous vine native to Pacifica, the tapestries were a microcosm of the planet's population and a short history of its settlement, as well.

As was the population of the town of Silverleaf Bay: a mixture of all three parent species, and the blended children thereof, all thanks to cordonase. The catalyst had indeed proven implantable, and had even, with some genetic jiggery-pokery, proved the solution to the SenSaru bottleneck, as well. Silverleaf Bay, while not the capital city of the colony planet, was in very many ways its heart. The former Gallifreyan colonial village had been renamed in honor of its many towering corin trees, the only ones on the planet, a decade previously.

The third moon finally made its appearance, and the citizens of the town added their voices to the ceremonial songs following its rays across the hemisphere. The songs cycled through the welcomes to the moon and the seasons, the new lives recently added, and the farewells to those no longer with them in the flesh – though never forgotten. Joshua and Romana, during the pause for remembrance of names and faces, shared a deep, communal pang of loss for Corin and Lady Rose, who had died together some time before, shortly after their sixty-third wedding anniversary; she after a long, brutal battle with cancer, and he as a suicide on finding she'd passed in the middle of the night. They were found together the following morning, curled in bed as they'd slept each night for so many wonderful, fantastic decades.

The main celebration over, many of the citizens began drifting homeward, while others remained, respectfully drawing back from the extended clan gathering around one particular person on one side of the common. Lady Tis'hania stood silently, basking in the moonglow, until at last she was approached by a young couple carrying a newborn infant. She smiled beatifically at the parents as she took the child, her great-great-great granddaughter, and held her so that she could look into her baby-pale lilac eyes. Tis'hania's voice then spread through the common, both aloud and through the still-strong telepathic network.

"Child of Pacifica – Child of my People:

"I give you your first name, Callista Det'Sari. May you bear it in honor, until the day you find your own.

"I give you your Self, which you will never lose, no matter where the winds of time and trouble blow you.

"I give you laughter, and I give you tears, for both are required for a life well and truly lived.

"I give you fire and ice, earth and air, that you may know balance when you find it.

"I give you the love of beauty, of justice, and of mercy, that you may strive always to show them to those around you.

"I give you the wisdom of your elders, and the wonder of youth, that you may joyfully seek knowledge all your days.

"I give you the dreams of the past, and the hopes of the future, that you may use the one to fulfill the other.

"I give you love and respect, that you may offer them always to whomever you may meet.

"I give you life, the most precious gift of all.

"I give you your home planet, Pacifica, and her three moons, to remind you always of your rich multiple heritage: Gallifrey, Earth, and SenSaru'a. May their histories sustain you, providing the backdrop to a rich life, well and truly lived.

"And finally, Child of Pacifica, Child of my People, I give you the skies, the only thing greater than yourself." And she lifted the baby up, facing the heavens, holding her there for a long moment. The moons shone their gentle light upon her, and the heavens danced.


End file.
